Real
by doubleknotted
Summary: Sequel to Always. Katniss and Peeta are married, but their journey is nowhere near its end. In fact, it has just begun. Post-Mockingjay up to epilogue. The married life. Katniss' POV. Everlark. Rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello! And here's the first chapter of the sequel to ****_Always, _****which I think you should read first (and probably needs rewriting), but it's okay if you don't. I'm almost done writing this story, just some polishing and stuff, so the waiting won't be long. This is slightly AU, same goes for my previous fanfiction, but Suzanne Collins didn't really expound on some things so I don't know. **

**I have plans for all of them, really great plans, so I really would like you guys to stick with me to the end. I promise, it's worth it. Well, I hope it is. **

**Blabbering aside, here it is! It starts right after the wedding.**

**Oh, by the way, I want to thank everyone who read ****_Always_****. Thank you so much. Really. (If you want to read it, just check my profile. It's the only other thing in there, I think)**

**PS: English isn't my first language, so bear with me.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, I'm just borrowing them from Suzanne Collins because I love them so much.**

* * *

They say that once you get married, your life changes. With our setup, I didn't think anything could possibly be different.

How wrong I was.

Our mornings are relatively the same, waking up to each other, sharing a few touches and kisses before fully getting up… but I don't know. Knowing that I'm married to this man makes takes it to a whole new level of bliss.

That first morning, I woke up feeling nothing but damp sheets and warm limbs around my body. I wondered why I was naked, and I didn't get the answer until I twisted around and faced an identically naked Peeta. I blush and smile at the memory tugging at the back of my mind.

God, I love this boy.

I press a soft kiss to one of his collarbones and bring my hand up to encircle his waist. He stirs awake and after a while yawns me a good morning. I murmur a greeting back to him, kissing his chest again.

"Katniss?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we stay like this for a while?"

"No problem," I say, pressing myself closer to him, feeling his warmth.

"God," he whispers. The events of last night probably coming to him. He buries his face in my hair, "I love you." His voice makes my head feel light, and I feel weird. The same kind of weird whenever I'm with him. It's hard to explain, but I guess that's love.

Someone knocks on our bedroom door and bursts our little bubble of peace. I let out an exasperated sigh. _What did we ever do to the world for it to be so unfair?_ Peeta's chest rumbles as he chuckles, "I'll get it."

He stands and hastily puts on his prosthetic and pulls up a pair of boxers and pants. In seconds he's fully clothed again like nothing happened. It bugs me how much easier it is to be a guy. I recall just how long it takes just for me to put on my underwear. He turns to me and raises his eyebrows.

"What?" I say defensively.

"You're beautiful, Katniss. And I'm lucky to have you, and to have seen you naked. You're perfect, but I don't want anybody else to see you like that."

A glance down at my current position clears everything up. I quickly wrap myself in our blanket, his possessiveness bringing a small smile on my lips.

"You're so selfish."

"Just when it comes to you."

He opens the door finally, revealing my mom, a bottle of spirit cradled in her hands. "I wasn't able to give you this yesterday, but here's my wedding gift to the both of you."

"Oh," he breathes. I watch as Peeta takes the bottle from her. "Thank you, Mrs. Everdeen."

"That's my favorite," she adds. She spots me looking at them and gives me a small wave. It could be my mind playing tricks on me or my mom is really glaring at me. Which is something I should have seen coming. I mean, she attended the wedding of her nineteen year old daughter last night, so it's kind of a given she'll lose her virginity that same night. Add that to the fact that it's probably obvious that I'm naked underneath this blanket. And okay, I'm only nineteen but who cares? At least I'm married, and we were safe. I had a shot.

"I'll be going now. You two deserve some time alone."

She goes and Peeta closes the door behind him with an almost mischievous smile on his lips. He places the bottle on the drawer beside the door and slowly makes his way back to me. I lift the edge of the blanket I'm clutching so he can slide in easier, every second that he's not with me I deeply regret. We resume our previous position but he's not just warm _enough._

_What's up with me wanting more?_

"I liked it better when you didn't have a shirt on."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, and it's unfair. Just look at me."

He smiles at me widely, then pulls his shirt off, discarding it to the side of the bed. He pulls me closer and it feels so good. I sigh and snuggle against his chest. I feel impossibly safe with him, even back in the Arena with thousands of dangers sitting idly around us, when he held me in that cave I felt safe.

It's with these thoughts that I close my eyes and let sleep pull me in for another time.

"Hey, brainless, stop fucking bread boy for a moment and give me some food!"

_Ugh._

"Johanna," we both breathe out. They're not set to leave until the day after tomorrow, since the wedding ended late and it would be cruel of us to not let them rest before leaving. They also wanted to see Twelve and spend some time with us, which is actually kind of sweet.

But we have to postpone whatever we have in mind.

"Why did we invite her again?" he asks me as a joke. I just shake my head in response. I'm feeling very annoyed at this moment because why can't the two of us get more than a few minutes of peace? We spent the whole day talking to our guests and entertaining them yesterday and why isn't that just enough?

But this is Johanna though. We could never really stay mad at our loud and I think almost-always-angry friend. "We'll be down in a minute!" Peeta yells.

"Yeah, take your time putting clothes on! And Katniss, you are so going to spill everything to me! I need details!"

I cringe inwardly, already planning how to avoid all the invasive questions she'd be throwing at me.

* * *

After a couple of days, we finally have the house to ourselves again. We've just sent off the rest of our guests—which is just Johanna, Gale and his girlfriend, and Annie, Finn, and Chuck. My mom left a day earlier due to an emergency back in District Four.

The long walk to and from the station makes my legs feel like they're about to fall off at any given moment. I refuse to tell Peeta this because he might just sweep me off my feet and carry me. All that with a contraption of plastic and metal for a leg. I can't imagine how difficult that would be. When we get to the huge fountain in the middle of Victors' Village, I'm already leaning my whole body weight on Peeta. He must have noticed because he tells me, "Just a couple more yards, Katniss. We're almost there."

I grunt audibly and try to stand up a bit straighter. The afternoon sun is frying me. Even with my thinnest shirt and shortest shorts (which only covers half my thighs, yes, and no, I don't have and wear anything else shorter than that because Peeta doesn't like it which is great because I don't find them very comfortable, when we're out of course, but in private, I'm okay with less), I'm still left feeling rather baked. He pulls me flush against him, my head in contact with his chest, and we walk faster. Actually, he might have been carrying me.

I plunk unceremoniously on the couch the moment we get inside. Droplets of sweat slide across every bit of my skin. I hear him chuckle lightly. It takes all of the energy I have left in my body to right my head up and look at him. All that energy is replenished when I see him pulling his shirt off.

He's not exactly ripped, but he's muscular. All those months of eating the food the two of us provide has helped him gain back his weight. His arms are toned from all the lifting he does at the bakery. His midsection doesn't exactly have a six-pack, but with the right angle and lighting, you would see some definition. His head gets stuck in his shirt so he yanks it a bit more roughly, his biceps tensing at the action.

_I'm so lucky._

I don't pay any attention to the scars spread across his whole body.

He still has one of his arms entangled in his shirt when he catches me. "Oh, look at that. My wife's checking me out."

I scowl to hide the guilty smile I have on my face. I must look silly. He walks to sit beside me and lets his arm drop around my shoulder. "Want me to do your back?"

"God, yes."

As I turn my back to him, he lifts the back of my shirt then starts massaging me. Years spent kneading dough has paid off well. This sounds ridiculous but if I'd only thought of what a baker's hands could do, I wouldn't have even batted an eyelash at Gale. He was incapable of doing anything to help me get through all those sore days after long hikes and treks that I had to endure for years. Or maybe he could have done something, but given my mindset and the type of our relationship, he couldn't. It doesn't matter, what matters now is that I'm alive and content, and okay, a bit thankful for the life I have.

A soft moan escapes me. "How you manage to find ways to pleasure me is beyond me. How do you do that?"

"I have to make sure you're not going to leave me. God knows I'd risk everything for that not to happen."

"I'm not going anywhere, Peeta."

He merely shrugs and focuses on a spot between my shoulder blades and it feels so good I have to bite down a much louder moan. How is a single person capable of _all of this_?

"Okay, your turn," I say, quickly whipping down my shirt and facing him.

He looks at me like I've grown a pair of horns. "My turn? Wha—why?"

"I also have to make sure you're not leaving me. It would be easy for you to find someone else. Unlike me, you're pretty attractive. I saw the butcher's daughter checking you out. At our _wedding_."

"No kidding? Therese? And no, Katniss, you are attractive. Don't be so hard on yourself."

I just shrug, "I had to keep my hands on you like crazy so they don't find themselves hitting her."

He laughs at me, his hands drawing me closer, making me stand on my knees. He studies me, "I like this Katniss."

I shoot him a look of confusion, my hands finding their places on his shoulders. "What Katniss?"

"Possessive Katniss. Though I do like stubborn and grumpy and hungry and persistent and sweet and cuddly and giggly Katniss, too."

I feel heat rushing to my cheeks and I give his shoulder a playful shove. "Come on, I'll do your back, too."

He turns around, one of his leg tucked underneath him, the other one planted firmly on the floor. I try massaging him but he's just so… hard. It's all that muscle. After the first Games I think the both of us didn't have a single ounce of fat left on our bodies. Then Peeta lost the muscle he managed to build from working in their family's bakery when they tortured him in the Capitol. So really, he was a clean slate.

I'm not backing out though, so I just pinch a bit of muscle here and there, hoping it would pass.

"Katniss?" he asks, craning his neck to look at me. He shifts a little so he's facing me again. "Are you massaging me or are you feeling me up?"

I feign disgust and stand up, splaying my hands and exaggeratedly wave them in the air. "I can't—just. No. I'm done."

The sound of his laughter fills the room and my head. He catches my waist and pulls me to him. The back of my knees hit the edge of the couch and I fall between his legs. His arms automatically wrap around my torso as he trails kisses on my neck, slowly working his way up my jaw. "I'm kidding. I love you. And I like the feeling of your hands on me."

He kisses the spot behind my right ear and I almost crumble at the feeling of his lips there. He hums in amusement. He hasn't stopped kissing that small patch of skin ever since he found out on our wedding night it's one of my weak spots. I feel his teeth graze my ear, then his lips are back on my neck.

I think my stomach's going to twist itself so much it's going to give me cramps.

I turn around and take his face in my hands, wasting no time in kissing him. He responds immediately and kisses me back. Gently at first, but the feeling of each other's lips moving against your own makes everything blurry. My fingers tangle with his blond curls and tug at them lightly. His hands roam my back, and the moment they slip under my shirt I lose every bit of self-control.

It's another perk of being married. _It._

I wonder when I'll be able to even think the word.

Peeta and I are both so spent up from all the… activities we did for the past few hours. We're lying on the bed, my forehead still damp from sweat. The light coming in from our window is no longer from the sun. The clock informs me it's well past seven in the evening. Okay, so that took longer than it felt. But anyway.

With heavy limbs, I reluctantly wriggle my way out of Peeta's embrace. He's fallen asleep, which is totally understandable. He's tired. I'm tired. It just so happens I'm hungry, too.

I dress up and prepare dinner for us from all the leftovers of the _leftovers_ of our wedding. I know we have enough money to buy food and we both have the abilities to provide for ourselves, but throwing any bit of food away just feels so wrong. Especially having grown up in Twelve, where you can starve to death in safety.

Almost half the food has gone stale so the next morning I leave him a note and go out hunting. I missed my woods so much. Quiet washes over me, my eyes falling shut to the spring breeze and soft chirping of the birds. Crouching down to retrieve my bow and arrows from the hollow log that has housed it for so many years, a pair of eyes stare right back at me. I startle at the sight of it, but when it crawls out, I can't help but smile. I really am Catnip.

"Hey," I gently greet the lynx cub. She seems tame. I offer my right hand for her to smell. When she doesn't tense or bite, I take it as a signal to scratch her chin. I feel her purr at my touch. "You're all alone?" I ask her, as if it's going to answer me. I pull my bow out fully and nock an arrow. I take a few steps and see if she's going to follow me.

The cub looks like it's weighing the options, then proceeds on stepping out of the log. I spot a squirrel to my right and shoot it. The lynx cub's head follows the sound of the arrow as it zips through the air. It lodges right in the eye. Walking over to where the dead squirrel lay, I take out the arrow and toss the whole squirrel to the cub. She noses it for a moment, then eats it.

"If you follow me around the whole day, I might not get a haul. And if you do, I think I should name you."

I sit on another log and watch her as she eats silently, racking my brain for any name I could give her. All the names of the dead people I knew and held so dearly come to my mind but I skip all of them. It would be painful for her to be a namesake of somebody I still see in my nightmares.

I decide to just leave it. Most people I know—or knew—are gone anyway. I continue my hunt, tossing the thin squirrels to the cub, until the sun's heat feels too much. She almost follows me back to Twelve but I stop her. She's too precious to be killed. There are still a few tyrants in town that just might take her for her coat. I speak to her in a hushed tone for a reason I can't find. "Stay here, okay? Don't follow me. I'll be back tomorrow."

I get to the other side of the fence and see that's she's watching me from where I left her. Good. I wave her goodbye and make a run for home.

It's eerily quiet when I step into the house. This is unusual, Peeta should be up by now. Probably making breakfast or drinking his coffee. Something must be wrong.

"Peeta?" I call out gently. "Peeta? Where are you?"

A soft whimper from the living room catches my attention. I drop my game bag to the side and let my hunting jacket fall to the floor. Peeta's wedged between the couch and the center table, rocking back and forth, his hands gripping strands of his hair so hard I fear he might just be strong enough to pull a handful out.

Slowly, but with my guard up, like I would with a wounded predator, I make my way to his side. He has his eyes closed from fighting off the episode. I wish I could squeeze myself into his mind and help him weed all the confusing memories out. I pry his hands away from his hair, "Shh, it's okay, Peeta. Shh. I'm here. I'm here with you."

After so many weeks of good days, of course there has to be a bad day. The odds aren't in our favor like that. It pains me to see him like this, on the verge of going crazy, fighting his demons to stay sane. I feel guilty, if I had not agreed to be the Mockingjay, Snow wouldn't have hijacked him.

But a part of me also knows that he would have killed Peeta. There was no way he's going to let him go. And having to live the rest of my life without him would be unbearable. Sleepless nights and meaningless days, and having to face everything alone? I can't.

"Peeta, look at me," I say and take his face into my hands. "Open your eyes, please, Peeta. Look at me, look me in the eyes."

He has let go of his hair, but now he's directing all his frustration to the hem of his shirt. He's twisting and stretching them, over and over, over and over. After a minute or more of struggling, he finally dares a peek at me, his eyes startlingly blue.

"Peeta, it's okay, we're in our living room. We just got married a week ago, I love you. Anything else other than that, it's not real." He's trying really hard to hold my gaze, I can almost see him breaking at the seams just from looking at his eyes.

"You—you're not a mutt?" he asks. My heart aches from hearing his usually light voice strain to get the words out. And the fact that he doubts what I am.

"No… no, I'm not going to hurt you. I love you."

He closes his eyes again, so hard that wrinkles appear on his forehead. As a last ditch effort, I sit on his lap and lean my forehead against his. I tell him I love him repeatedly, softly, like those three words are the only words I know. I close my eyes, not being able to look at him suffer for any longer. I never will be able to look at Peeta suffer.

All of a sudden he dies in my head, this image of him I have in my mind completely goes limp in my arms. My heart beat quickens, and my eyes open frantically to reassure me that he's still breathing. I feel tears on my cheek but I don't wipe them. I can't bring myself to let go of Peeta. He's still fighting, untangling the mess of thoughts he probably has in his mind. Tears fall from his eyes, and I know he's in a lot of pain, and I want to give him strength but I don't know how.

It's not something I'm certain will work, but what else can I do? I close my eyes again and talk to him in my mind. He can sense my thoughts at given times, maybe now he can.

Finally, he takes a deep breath and releases it. We're quiet, me still straddling him, my hands cupping his face, and my mind, hopefully, persistently sending calming thoughts to his.

"What did I ever do to deserve you, Katniss?" he asks me softly.

"You're just you, Peeta. You're just you."

"And that's enough?"

"Yes. It's more than enough."

"Maybe I'm not the person you think I am."

This brings out a quiet laugh from me. "Peeta, I know you hate some parts of yourself, but I don't." I open my eyes now, staring right back at his. "You're perfect to me. I love you. All of you."

He doesn't say anything back, just stares at me. He stares at me so long I feel conscious about how I look. My hair's a mess probably, one look at my hands and I regret placing them on Peeta's cheeks. Bits of dried blood are still on my nails and fingers. Then very slowly, as if time has suddenly stopped going by its usual speed, he takes my chin into his hand and brings his lips to mine for a very gentle kiss.

We pull away, sad smiles on our lips. I help him stand and walk to our bedroom, one careful step at a time. Once he's settled, I remove his prosthetic and place it at the side of the bed.

"I'll go get your medicine, I'll be right back."

I drop a kiss on his head, his damp curls tickling my lips, and walk to the door. I'm just about to close the door when he calls me. "Katniss?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, too."

* * *

**A/N: And there it is! I had to write a flashback scene right away, because these characters have suffered so much. They're special.  
****  
Here's a quote from Peeta in the next chapter:  
****"I don't like hospitals either. They remind me too much of my cell."**

**So, there you have it. Let me know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm on to writing the last chapter of this story, so I thought it wouldn't hurt to post another one. And besides, I reread the one I posted and felt like it wasn't enough. Hope you like this.**

* * *

The train zooms past thousands of trees lining the flat expanse surrounding the district. Right now we're on our way to the Capitol. Peeta had suggested we call Dr. Aurelius regarding the flashback since they usually never last that long. I found out over dinner that he had woken up at eight in the morning and almost immediately had the episode. I found him downstairs at around past ten.

Dr. Aurelius asked Peeta if it would be okay for him to pay him a short visit again. I felt my jaw slack when he said that.

_Is Peeta getting worse? What if something's happening in his brain? Would his life be at risk again?_

Dr. Aurelius seemed to have known I'm going to be worried because he actually told me I could come, too. He just needs to send a letter to the different districts informing them of my visit to the Capitol for "medical purposes." He says he needed to see me, too, anyway. To see if I'm well enough to be cleared. Whatever that means. A week later, he called us again, telling us that we're good to go.

So that's how we ended up in here, inside this train heading towards a place I'm not sure I'm ready to see again. We're lying on our sides on the bed of our compartment, my back against his chest. Peeta's arms wrap around me tighter, I wonder if he sensed my thoughts.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just…worried."

"About what?"

"You," I say. "And me, too." I add.

"You're strong, Katniss. I know you are."

I want to tell him no, I'm not. I just like to pretend I am. For everyone else's sake, I pretend I'm strong so they can be weak.

We arrive after another day spent cramped in that compartment. I felt restless for the most part of that last day on the train, so I urged Peeta to join me in roaming around. We avoid people, or more likely, we avoid attention. We stick to the narrow spaces, the shadowed spots. Sometimes it just hits me that it's like we're acting in an action movie or something, then the thought would make me smile.

As soon as the huge train doors open, we're greeted by our former escort and present friend, Effie Trinket. She's clad in…_pink. _But less extravagant now compared to when we first met her officially. Her wig isn't standing as tall as it used to be, and it isn't brightly colored. It's auburn. Actually it has something to it that makes me think it's her real hair.

"Nice hair, Effie," Peeta says.

She smiles sincerely at that, which only confirms what I thought. It is her real hair. We exchange greetings, then she ushers us into a cab that will take us to the hotel room we're supposed to stay in. Throughout the whole trip, Peeta and I are peering out the cab window. Although it wasn't as glorious as before, compared to the other districts, anybody could see how different the Capitol is.

We finally reach the hotel, and are given the key to our room on the sixth floor. If it weren't for the number on the card, we wouldn't find it. Everything is identical in here, same white walls, marble tiles, and wooden furniture. Peeta swings open the door, and we're allowed a few minutes of inspection, Effie asking us to just say it and she'd get it fixed or changed.

It's not as big as the ones we used to stay in in the Training Center. It only contains a queen-sized bed in the middle flanked by bedside tables on each side. A projector hangs from the ceiling in front of the bed. A bathroom is attached just to the end of the room, beside a curtained window that reveals a good view of the rest of the Capitol.

We tell Effie it would do just fine for us and we bid our goodbyes.

I forgot just how tiring it is to sit through a day and wait for the train to reach a destination. Peeta and I both just fall on the bed without any word. I wonder if he'll try to work me up and talk me into doing it tonight.

He doesn't, we just share a sweet kiss before falling asleep in each other's arms. It's enough.

Effie's almost banging on our door the next morning, yelling our names from the hallway. It oddly feels like we're about to attend training again or we need to prepare for the interviews. I tell Peeta this and he just chuckles, also making a joke on how Effie is probably mad at us for taking too long to prepare.

I put on a blue shirt, a pair of dark brown pants tucked into my hunting boots. I decide to leave my hair down since Effie's voice is getting louder and louder and I don't want her to disturb the other guests on this floor. Peeta has on a gray polo shirt, one of his khaki pants, and his leather shoes.

We get directed to a hospital, and the moment the smell of it fills my nose, I feel like gagging. All those memories from Thirteen flash before my eyes, they make me feel weak. My breaths comes in short and I break a sweat just by forcing myself to calm down. I look at Peeta and wait for him to lunge at me, but he doesn't. My knees fall beneath me and Peeta pulls me close to him, holding me up, whispering soothing words in my ears.

"Oh, dear. What happened? Is she okay?" I hear Effie squeak.

"She's fine, I think. It's probably just the hospital. This place isn't exactly associated with happy memories."

"Oh, of course. Come now, Dr. A's office is just around the corner."

My head is buried in Peeta's shirt as he half-carries, half-drags me to where the office is. I take deep breaths to calm myself. This is probably just a panic attack, like Peeta implied. It's nothing serious.

I hear a door close behind us and the next second I'm being lowered down to a seat. Peeta never lets go of my hand as he settles beside me.

"Is everything okay?" the doctor's slightly hoarse voice asks.

"Yeah," I croak out. "I'm just not very fond of hospitals."

"I understand, just take deep breaths. You'll be fine."

"I know."

Dr. Aurelius smiles at me tightly then knows better to leave me alone. He turns to Peeta and they talk. I zone out, the smell of alcohol and sterilized things still clouding my head. Peeta's explaining what happened, I think. A frown crosses the doctor's face. He nods. Peeta squeezes my hand. I squeeze back.

I need to focus on something. Anything to help me ignore the foul smell of the hospital. On Dr. Aurelius' desk, there's a small clock. I watch as the hand goes around and around. I'm staring at a clock but I don't know how much time has passed but the circular motion of the hands make me dizzy. Craning my head to my left, I see a neat stack of folders. I count them, a lot of times the folders blur into one and I lose track but I keep counting. Even when I'm not looking at the folders anymore, I'm still counting.

I've just reached 316 when I zone in again, and when I'm breathing normally again. They're not talking about the episode anymore. Dr. Aurelius is congratulating us for our marriage and for all the progress we've made.

"Thank you," I say.

"Nice to have you back, Katniss. Now, it's your turn. I want you to be honest with me, Katniss. We'll save more time." He gives me a tight smile. "Okay, so how are you?"

His question came out too casual so I have to arrange my thoughts for a moment before answering. "Good. I'm good."

He gives me a sign to continue so I do, "I mean, I still have bad days." I reluctantly admit. "And I just had a panic attack. But they're lesser now, the bad days, I mean. More good days than bad. Most of the time Peeta can pull me out of them, but there are days that I just can't help it."

"Are those random or is there anything special?"

"Mostly they're events like birthdays and stuff. Other times it's caused by something, like a bird or a flower or water."

"Like triggers…"

I nod. He mulls this over, his lips pursing. "What about nightmares?"

"I still have them, but not quite as abundant."

"How frequent?"

"One in a couple days, sometimes on bad nights I get three to five nightmares." I gulp when I say this. I'm still _suffering_. This is when I understand what he meant about getting me "cleared". He's going to see if they can relieve me of my punishment—my banishment to Twelve. Suddenly I want to take back everything I've said. Dr. Aurelius has just stood up and took some papers out of a black folder from behind him. He sets it on the table and hands me a pen.

"Okay, just sign here," he points to a blank at the bottom of the page.

"What's this?" I ask. As far as I can remember, I have perfect vision, but the letters on the page keep on dancing and I can't read anything. Nothing makes sense except that there's a huge Capitol seal embossed on the paper and I do not want to touch that.

"It's your clearance. Once you and I sign that, I'll forward it to the higher ranks then you'll be allowed inter-district travel."

"What?" I can't believe it. "B-but I'm still—I mean, what about everything I've said just minutes ago?"

"Katniss," he says in a tone that resembles the one Beetee used when he explained to us the plan in the Quell. "How much time has passed since the war ended?"

"I—I'm not sure. More than two years maybe?"

"Less than two years," he corrects me. "_Only _less than two years. You two have been through so much, and here you are, already married, and you only get occasional nightmares and a few bad days, and for Peeta, that last flashback was his first in almost more than two months. That's incredible progress! And as I've said, the both of you have suffered more than a person would in five lifetimes. So, nightmares and flashbacks, for you it'd be normal. And they won't be permanent. There will come a time that you two wouldn't be dealing with those."

"Thank you, Dr. Aurelius. Thank you so much."

"It's the least I could do. You're like my own children now." A tear rolls off his cheek and he wipes it right away. It's probably best to leave that subject to him, but curiosity gets the best of me. "You have children?"

"I used to. Just one, actually. She was just a kid. She was the most wonderful daughter in the world. She… she didn't have enough time. She died with all those children when the bombs blew off. Along with my wife."

God.

_Prim. Prim. Prim. Prim. Prim. Prim. Prim. Prim. Prim. Pri—_

No, don't think about her. I force those thoughts out of my head. I can't break down in here. I've just been cleared. I have to keep myself together. Peeta, as always, seems to know what's going on in my head because he squeezes my hand that is still clasped with his. I focus on another tear that falls from Dr. Aurelius' eyes. "I'm so sorry," I whisper.

"I'm sorry, too, Katniss. I know about her. So when they assigned me to you, I accepted right away."

"Thank you."

He tells me to sign the document right afterwards and we bid our goodbyes. I have to cling to Peeta tightly again as we walk out of the hospital. It's not until we're seated on the bed back in our hotel room that I realize I didn't get what he said to Peeta.

"Hey, what did he tell you? I don't think I caught it."

"Oh, he says it's probably due to the stress. We had so many visitors and such. I still need to drop by tomorrow for a quick scan then we can go home."

"I'll go with you," I say. I don't know, I must be expecting him to tell me I don't have to, especially with what happened earlier. But he doesn't. He actually looked relieved.

"Thank you," he says, looking down.

"You're… scared?"

His eyes dart to mine, then back to his hands. "I don't like hospitals either. They remind me too much of my cell."

My breath gets caught in my throat. So that's why he knew right away that I'm having a panic attack. Because he probably had one when he went here before. Alone. He must have been so scared. I don't know what to say. I can't really tell him it's fine, because it's not. So I lean into him instead, hoping it would bring him some comfort.

That night I dream of him locked up in his cell, his wrists bound together by a length of rope. He looks as battered as when we were first reunited in that room in Thirteen, when he almost strangled me to death. I couldn't look any longer so I turn away, but before the nightmare ends, I catch a glimpse of myself in the glass that separates me from Peeta. I'm not me.

I'm Snow.

It's midnight and I'm shivering though I can feel my whole body slick with sweat. Carefully, I extricate myself out of Peeta's arms, not wanting to wake him from my trembling, and sit beside him. He shifts, then I'm greeted by his eyes that when bathed in moonlight, are the brightest and coolest shade of blue.

He blinks at me, "You okay?"

Of course he'd be woken up. What was I thinking?

"Bad dream?" he asks. I just nod.

I grip the blanket as hard as I can to stop my hands from shaking. Looking back at it, the nightmare isn't very scary. I didn't kill anyone, Peeta was alive. Not well, but alive, and that is something I could settle for. But I don't know, I really don't know why I'm so terrified.

Maybe it's because of Snow. The idea of me being him, the very same person who put Peeta in so much pain and made him forget he loves me, is something I couldn't live with. I can't be that cruel. I was ruthless, deadly, even, but I would and could never hurt the people I love. At least, not intentionally.

Peeta sits up and opens up his arms. I lean into them and close my eyes. _It's not real, _I tell myself.

"It's not real," Peeta echoes. "I'm here."

* * *

It turns out Dr. Aurelius was right, nothing's gone wrong. It's just the stress brought on by the wedding. Too many people and such. We get home two days after that last visit to the hospital.

Since that visit though, a new kind of worry has bubbled up in me. I can't afford to think about Peeta's condition getting worse. I make sure to ask him every day if he has gotten a new episode but he keeps on telling me he is fine, I don't need to worry about him. I decide to trust him on this.

One Saturday morning though, about a month after our check-up in the Capitol, I finish my hunt early, an hour prior to my usual wrap-up time. My mood is fairly content, I think I'm even bouncing on my feet. The game I have is of the same amount I get on my normal hunting days, and I get to spend an added hour with Peeta. I have all the reason to be happy.

When I open the door, something feels off again. It's so quiet. The new kind of worry I have for Peeta, which usually dissipates the moment I see him around and about, now grows stronger and is threatening to suffocate me.

"Peeta?"

I drop my game bag to the floor and head for the living room where I found him a month ago. He's not there, so I check the kitchen. No Peeta either.

I turn to head for the stairs to check if he's still asleep. I hope he is.

I walk out of the living room and—

No. No, this isn't happening.

Peeta is lying still on the floor.

_No, he can't die. He's not allowed to die! _

I think I say his name, but I don't know and I don't care. I can feel my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest. I can't breathe. I run to his side, panic filling every bit of my body. I feel my whole body trembling. My hand automatically finds his chest to check for his heartbeat. "Peeta?"

There it is. One. Two. Three. Four… He's alive.

"Peeta?" I take his face into my hands and he stirs almost right away. A nervous laugh escapes me, "You're alive. What happened?"

His eyes sleepily open, trying to focus on me. I think he recognizes me because he smiles. "It's okay. Just blacked out. This one's just worse than the other three I've had this week. Nothing to be worried about."

_"_Other three?" I ask. What does he mean? He said he didn't get any recent flashbacks, not one in a whole month.

"Yeah, I got one last Monday, then Tuesday, then Thursday. Last week I got two." He must have hit his head somewhere because he's saying all these things to me. Things he kept secret.

A hundred thoughts bombard my mind, my head is starting to hurt from all of them. "Come on, let's get you upstairs."

My feet wobble from the rush of panic and from half of Peeta's weight on me. We manage though, even with my preoccupancy. I set him down on the bed and fetch his meds. He takes them and instantly falls back to sleep, not even bothering to send a look my way.

I sit on the wooden chair we keep in our room and watch him as I finally pay attention to the negative thoughts I buried at the back of my mind the moment I heard him say 'worse than the other three I've had this week.'

I don't know how much time I spent staring at him, letting my anger boil, but it must have been a long time because he has woken up. He sees me, and is probably wondering what I'm doing here on this chair just watching him sleep.

"Katniss?"

Before I can stop myself, the words just pour out of me, "I can't believe you lied to me."

"What? What are you talking about?" He asks, sitting upright.

"Don't you dare pull that what-are-you-talking-about shit on me!" I suddenly yell, bursting with so much anger. I know it's not completely rational but when I'm angry, I'm angry. "You told me you weren't having flashbacks, then this morning I find you on the floor, lying as still as a corpse!"

I see him open his mouth to say something, probably to defend himself or anything because his eyes almost look alarmed and apologetic and sincere but unlucky him I spot a bit of pride in it, too.

So I cut him off saying, "Then you tell me it's fine, you just blacked out because this episode was just worse than the fucking three you've had this fucking week?!"

I actually laugh at this.

"You should have known better to just tell me the truth. You know I hate being lied to. And you, of all people, Peeta! It's you! I trusted you with my life but you don't even trust me enough to tell me you're not doing okay?!"

"I didn't want to bother you. I didn't want to keep you in here when you should be out hunting," he answers calmly, but I can see it in his eyes that he's on the verge of screaming at me, too. It's his weakness, those blue eyes. They always show what he really feels inside. And the fact that he's actually going to raise his voice at me soon makes me even angrier.

"What, so you think it's so important to me that I go out and visit the woods?! More important that I am there for the man I married?!"

"Well, you know what, Katniss?" he suddenly snaps. "Maybe I'm just tired of being a burden to anyone! Maybe I didn't want people looking at me like I'm wounded, like I can't even get through a day because I'm. So. Fucking. Broken."

"You know I don't see you like that!"

"Yes, you do! And it's the reason why you're mad at me, because I'm so unstable I need your help!"

"Do you really think I'm mad at you for being you?! Or for being as you so beautifully phrased, 'unstable I need your help?' I'm mad at you because you didn't tell me and ask for help! I'm mad at you because you never let me take care of you because I'm Katniss Everdeen and I'm not capable! It's only you, huh? It's only Peeta fucking great Mellark who's allowed to help! You only think of yourself! What if you hit your head somewhere and you died like I thought you did when I found you unconscious at the foot of the stairs?" My voice cracks at the end, and I'm not shouting anymore, the idea of Peeta dying still too strong for me to think of even when I'm right here just about done yelling at him.

In my mind I see his body again, lying still. I feel the panic, the suffocation I felt, like suddenly all the air in my lungs has been sucked out. The sharp feeling in my stomach like somebody just kicked me in the gut.

I feel the pain, the emptiness that would come with Peeta's death.

"How dare you?" I ask, a tear rolling off of my cheek. "How dare you let me believe you're dead when you know I would die if you died, and when you know you're the only one I have left?"

I stand and silently walk to the door, and when I feel him move to come and get me, I run.

* * *

**A/N: I saw the opportunity so I took it. It'll all make sense in the next chapter. Here's something from Katniss in chapter three: "Get away from me."**

**Please tell me what you think! Thanks for reading by the way.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks to the first few readers of this story! Things will be moving from the next chapter forward. I promise.  
**

* * *

I lie here on the couch in one of our spare rooms, both of my feet tucked underneath me. It's the nearest room I could get to. It's not cold yet but I needed to distract myself. I needed to keep busy so I built a fire.

My throat feels so hoarse from the yelling I gave Peeta. I cringe by just thinking of it, of how we fought. I feel guilty for being so harsh at him. He was only looking out for me, like he always has.

I guess I couldn't help it, because it truly terrifies me, the fact that there _would_ be a world without a Peeta Mellark on it. And it scares me further because I might be a part of it.

I don't want to be.

I don't want to live in a world without Peeta Mellark. It's unthinkable.

I'm close to tears again, so I direct my attention on the slowly dying fire in the hearth, the flames dancing around. It almost looks like a troupe from the Capitol, those girls with huge billowy skirts and skimpy jewel-studded bras who are 'dancing' but all I see is them throwing their hips around rather seductively.

I don't know, I just want to disappear right now, I want the ground to swallow me and just spit me back out once Peeta and I are fine again.

I mean, I still am a bit mad at him for what he did, or what he didn't do for that matter. But I also hate the feeling of us being not okay. There's this tension, some sort of charge in the atmosphere and it's like it would explode and kill the both of us if we dare move so suddenly.

I just want us to be okay again.

The anger I have left for him is so small that if he asks for forgiveness I know I would pardon him right away.

I want to ask for forgiveness, too, but I don't know what to say. I've never really known what to say. A minute passes, then I hear his footsteps thumping against the wooden floor. A door opens, few more footsteps, then a cabinet door. Footsteps again, each one growing louder, then it stops. I hear him knock first, then he opens the door carefully, but I don't turn to look at him, my eyes still trained on the flames.

"You shouldn't be up so soon," I say, my voice coming out softer than I intended. "Go rest."

"Katniss," he whispers. From the corner of my vision, I see him step inside. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I should have just told you. I trust you, Katniss. I love you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I raised my voice, I got carried away. I'm sorry. Please forgive me." He pauses. "Please, Katniss. You're the only one I have left, too."

I feel so hollow. How could I be so self-centered, saying I didn't have anyone else when my mother and my other best friend are still alive? How could I have said that to Peeta, who lost his entire family and almost all of his friends, if not everyone?

I look at him, and I see that he's so scared.

I get up from my seat and close the short distance between us, wrapping my arms around him tightly. I feel him relax and hug me back.

"You're not tired of me yet?" He asks gently, pulling away a bit. "Of having to come home to a deranged husband who sometimes loses control and is replaced by a violent maniac who hurts you and spits out awful things and accuses you of murder and—"

"No." I shake my head. "I'm not, and I'll never be." For some reason what he just said makes me anxious so I ask him, too. "Is that what you're scared of? Me leaving because of all those things?"

He nods.

"What about me, Peeta? Don't you think I'm scared, too? That you'll get tired of me? All those nightmares and bad days?"

"That's different. You know I won't leave you. I promised to stay."

"I promised, too. Let me take care of you, okay? Be fair."

He smiles a little, "Okay."

"No more secrets, alright?"

"No more secrets," he promises. "Hey, we just had our first fight."

"We've fought before, I even punched you again and again by the lake."

"No, I mean as…"

_Oh._

_Oh!_

"A married couple," I finish.

"Yeah."

"See, it wasn't all bad. At least we've got one life stone down."

He smiles at me, this time it's one of those contagious happy smiles, so I can't help but smile back. I pull him down and kiss him, just long enough for him to know we're okay. I can't let myself get lost because that might lead to other things and he needs to rest. Which is why I take his hand and walk him back to the bedroom. He raises his eyebrows at me, almost suggestively, but I just smile and shake my head.

"You need to rest first," I say, and since we've just gotten over our fight and I'm feeling oddly giddy I add, "Maybe tomorrow."

He laughs, "Okay."

I tuck him to bed but before I can stand fully, he catches my wrist and gently tugs at it. "Stay?"

"Always."

Peeta deduces that his past episodes are probably due to the leftover stress from the wedding combined with the stress of being alone. It's contrasting, the first one being all about crowds then the second reason being about having no one but it makes sense. He panics when I'm not there, especially when he's still asleep and senses that I'm not beside him, his mind creates a nightmare of me dying. Add that to waking up with me being gone, it really would cause a lot of stress.

We don't bother calling Dr. Aurelius, both of us too stubborn, saying we can handle it. I'm rubbing off on Peeta, my goodness. I make sure to wake him now though before I leave, just to tell him I'd be off to the woods.

* * *

Months pass, and I don't regret marrying Peeta even for a single day. He keeps on surprising me, giving me small gifts, taking me out for walks or for dinner. At one point we head out to that small strip of beach where he proposed to me. We bring a set of clothes with us and some food to last us for the day.

Due to Peeta's leg, we didn't swim much. And it's open water, I didn't want to risk him drifting away to the sea. It's my first time wearing what they call a bikini, a gift from Johanna of all people. It's sort of like a thicker pair of my underwear. I wasn't very comfortable, but I had no other swim clothes and Peeta kept on telling me I was beautiful, so that's that.

I also made a deal with him, I wear that dark green swim suit, and he keeps his shirt off.

I know. I'm a teenager, okay?

When we've changed into our swimwear and folded our clothes, I take Peeta by the hand and lead him to the beach. For the first hour, we just walk along the shore, enjoying the feeling of sand under our feet. Then Peeta leads me out into the sea, we stop when the water's just above our knees. The waves and the sound of them hitting the shore brings me a different kind of calm.

I now understand why Finnick loved the sea so much. Because even just for a brief moment, it makes you forget.

Peeta stands behind me and puts his chin on one of my shoulders, both of his arms snaking around my exposed stomach. I feel him sigh deeply, as his chest rises and falls against my back.

Then I'm shrieking and wet and two feet underwater.

"Peeta!" I scold, as soon as I get water out of my face of course, but then I see him laughing so hard he's clutching his stomach. I can't really stay mad at him. He calms down a bit but when he sees me, it sets him off again. He actually can't stop laughing he falls to his knees, then a particularly huge wave crashes into his back, making him fall face first into the water. He comes up after a few seconds, coughing and heaving but he's smiling.

"Turns out you don't even have to get back at me."

I smile at him and help him up again. He shakes the water out of his hair like a dog and I can't help but laugh. He has his nose scrunched up in that cute Peeta way, and before he can say anything I splash him right in the face.

He looks like a huge wet golden retriever.

And he's mine.

He splashes me back and this is basically how we spend half of the day. At one point Peeta grabs me by the waist and I think he pulls me down again to go underwater but we just end up sitting, me in front of him.

It amazes me just how far we've really progressed. Never in my life that I would have imagined me sitting with the man whom I love, on a beach with the sea splashing its waves against our bodies.

Peeta stiffens behind me, I'm worried it's another flashback. I quickly turn around, calming words at the tip of my tongue, ready to bring him out of his episode. But when I get a good look at him, he doesn't look like he's having one. He has his eyebrows furrowed like he's remembering something. His eyes are cast down, focused on a spot to my right. Then he smiles, looking back up at me.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Nothing. Just remembered the Quell."

The Quell. The beach. The locket. _I need you. _The kiss I so fought hard to not forget. Then I feel it again, brought on by the memory. We're not kissing yet, but I want to, and I don't want to stop once we do. All of those resurfaces on my mind. I wonder if he remembered that, too.

I think he does because I see his blue eyes turn into a darker shade. I don't realize I'm biting my lower lip until he cups my face and uses his thumb to untuck it from my teeth.

"Don't do that," he whispers in a much rougher voice than usual. This only makes me want to kiss him more.

"Why?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

"That's my job."

My insides are clenching so hard, I want nothing else but to do what I want to do. But I'm enjoying this bit of flirting with Peeta.

God, I'm _flirting. _Oh, but I'm married.

With all the energy I have left reserved for speaking I tell him, "Then do it."

As soon as those words leave my lips, his meet mine. Both of his hands are guiding me, tilting my head at an angle so he can do…his thing. I like it when he takes control. Maybe it's because it's different from his usual and casual self, always letting me make the decisions.

We eat after a while, then change into our normal clothes. We pack up and head back to the small train. It's only three compartments long, aside from the main train car from where it's controlled. The first train car has rectangular windows, the two middle ones have two windows on each side, the last train car having a large glass installment at the end, serving both as a window and a roof to the third of the compartment.

"Is this a special train people take or is this something else?" I ask.

"It's special, yes, but no one uses it but us."

"What do you mean?"

"It's mine. Ours," he admits sheepishly. "It was given to me."

He must have seen the expression I was wearing, a mix of not understanding and disbelief, because he explains, "You see, it was Thirteen's way of apologizing to me. For not rescuing me right away, therefore giving Snow just enough time to hijack me. They said I could have anything I want. I told them I just wanted permission to go back to Twelve, just wherever you are. They didn't agree at first, given my condition and all. So I asked for a train instead. I couldn't think of anything else, but I remembered being totally caught up in the sights we got to see on our way to the Capitol after the Reaping. Eventually, I was allowed back here, so I guess this was just a bonus."

"W-what about this beach?" I ask. He opens the train car door and we step in.

"I kind of just found it. Before you let me into your life, during those few first months after the war, I explored a bit. Got on this train and drove to see what worth this huge metal thing is. After fifteen minutes of staring at hundreds of buttons on the control panel, I managed to get this moving. Then I found that beach. I asked around if anybody owns it, I even phoned Beetee to see if it's anybody's property but luckily it wasn't. I asked if it could be mine, then he said he'll see what he can do. Weeks later I got a call from someone in the Capitol asking if I really wanted that, I said yes. Then she just said, 'Anything for the Mockingjay's husband.'"

He leads me inside the first train car and pushes a button.

"I got an episode that day, I kept seeing shiny memories then normal memories then shiny again. You were in all of them. I had a hard time figuring out what's real and what's not."

Not having anything to say to that, I hug him. He hugs me back, slowly guiding me to the farthest train car. I've never been in here before, though it looks almost exactly the same as the car I lounged in during the Victory Tour. Peeta sits on the couch at the end and I curl up beside him, my head on his lap. He plays with my still damp hair. I wonder if he knows he's smiling.

"Thanks," I say. "I had a lot of fun."

"Me too," he whispers back. "It's nice, isn't it? To feel like a kid again."

"Yeah, think we could go back soon?"

"Already?" he asks incredulously, but he's smiling. "I have an idea."

"What is it?"

"Our anniversary's near, I say we go visit another district. We can go to another one the next year, and the year after that."

I haven't thought of that. And oh my God, almost a year has passed. How can so much time slip from your grasp without you even realizing it? It's weird how sometimes, time feels like it just can't pass any slower, then other instances it passes by so quickly. Like it had for the past months.

Unlike before, I don't feel bad about not noticing it. I have no reason, really. At the end of each day, I'm grateful for everything that has happened, whether it be good or bad. I don't care, because it's him. It's his face I see first thing in the morning. It's him I come home to every day. It's him who makes me smile and laugh and cry, for good reason. It's his lips that meet mine and makes me feel like I'm on a dose of morphling. It's his arms I feel around me, the very same arms that make me feel safe. It's his face I see before I fall asleep. It's his voice I hear, his laugh.

It's him I love.

* * *

While we're walking around town, we see new faces. Complete strangers. We ask Sae about them, and discover that they're people from the other districts who wish to live here instead. Every one for his or her own reasons.

We head out to town to get some supplies, Peeta and I had agreed on going to the market periodically, every other month, since our food mainly comes from my daily haul and Peeta's take homes.

We split the items between us to make the trip shorter. Peeta's responsible for the heavier things like towels, blankets, and other things he thinks we'll be needing.

I get the light inedible stuff like couple bars of soap, a new broom, few bottles of alcohol and rolls of bandages because we ran out (A few weeks back, while I was cutting up some vegetables, the knife slipped from my hand, and because the world hates me so much it was the sharp edge that made contact with my skin. It was a pretty sharp knife. The wound ran down the base of my left knee up to my ankle. Peeta had to press rolls upon rolls of bandages on it to stop the bleeding. And us being accident prone, we can't _not _have bandages at home).

So I head inside the market that replaced the Hob to get what I need. After about half an hour, I'm almost done with my list, the only thing left is the bandages. The first time we bought them, they were near the antiseptics but I can't see them now.

I ask one of the employees and get pointed to the other side of the market, him mumbling about reorganizing and stuff. Whispering a thank you to him, I walk, eager for this trip to be over. I'm not much of a fan of walks taken alone. As much as possible, I need someone to accompany me, that companion almost always is Peeta now. I don't mind a bit.

Finally, I spot them, stacked neatly on the highest shelf. Ugh. Damn my height. I stand on my tiptoes to reach a few, but come up short. I need Peeta. Inching closer to the shelf, I try again, only to feel someone's chest brush on my back for a few seconds. I see a hand reach up, but they're not his. They're too large, too _smooth. _

My suspicions are confirmed when I see that it isn't my Peeta who helped me. A tall muscular guy in his mid-twenties probably, is standing too close to me. He reminds me of Cato. I only come up to his chest. His brown hair is unkempt, though he's giving me a smile, I can tell he only means trouble.

"Uh, thanks," I manage to say after getting over my discomfort. Seriously, can't he back away a few feet?

As if to mock me, he actually steps closer, and I automatically take a step back, but my ankles only hit the edge of the shelf. "Hey, sweetheart. My name's Bruce, we just got here from One. Maybe you can show me around?"

Then he _winks_ at me. Oh God.

Does he not recognize who I am? Where has this guy been hiding for the last three years? "Sorry, but I have to go."

"Nope, not going anywhere," he says, roughly pushing me back, his fingers lingering on the crook of my neck. Who the hell does this guy think he is?

"Get away from me," I whisper, my voice sounding dangerously soft. His hand drifts down, lower, far too lower for my comfort. If only I'm not so squeezed and my hands were free…

"Get away from her," a voice just a few feet to my left echoes. Thank God. We both turn at the same time, and if I hadn't heard the steadiness of his voice, I would have deemed the look on Peeta's face belonging to his hijacked self.

He is calm, but cold. The kind blue of his eyes is now replaced by an icy shade. Only his right hand is free, but by the way he has his fist clenched, that won't be a problem if it comes to it.

This Bruce guy backs away and lets his head hang to the side, sizing up Peeta. I walk and take my place beside Peeta, and only then do I see a flicker of recognition in that man's eyes.

Of course that would be what it takes. Me and Peeta standing side by side like we used to. It's the very first stance the whole Panem saw us in. The Reaping, the parade, in the arena.

But this guy still won't back down. He rolls up the sleeves of his black button down shirt and crosses his arms across his chest, showing off his biceps, taunting us. He walks closer, holding his head up high, completely proud of the fact that he's a few centimeters taller than Peeta.

"Let's go," I hear Peeta say softly.

Bruce's eyebrows jump in surprise and a cocky grin spreads across his annoying face. "Scared I'll beat your ass up?"

"No," Peeta says as nonchalantly as possible, but his tone scares me. I've heard this before. He's throwing the bait out to the sea. The bags that were once in his hands are now on the floor. "I'm just scared I'll beat your ass up."

Peeta's taunting works and in a second, Bruce's fist is raised and is heading straight for Peeta's jaw. Peeta moves so quickly and so fluidly. He dodges, grabs Bruce's outstretched arm, sidesteps and twists and folds it against Bruce's back. His right foot trips Bruce's and in record time he's got him kneeling in front of him, the brunet's face only inches from the floor.

"I've killed people," Peeta warns. "Touch my _wife_ again and I'll add you to my list."

He shoves him down and turns to leave, picking up the bag of supplies he put down minutes ago. His hold is surprisingly gentle on my hand when he takes it. We walk down the aisle, and at the end, the manager is standing with her hands limp at her sides. She must have seen a huge part of what has happened it because her eyes are so wide and I could just make out a thin film of sweat on her forehead.

"Sorry about that. Won't happen again," Peeta says as we pass by her.

She simply nods.

The walk back home is in silence, mostly because I'm still overwhelmed with what had unfolded in front of me. I'm no stranger to the violent side of Peeta, but him slipping into that because of…

No, that's not what took me by surprise. I'm overwhelmed because I haven't seen Peeta get so possessive _of me _until earlier.

He must really be damn selfish about me then, if he's willing to take on a guy that looked at least twice his size in terms of built. Peeta's muscular too, but lean. That guy looked like he has been lifting weights the moment he got out his mother's womb.

"You should lift more," I joke. "Build more muscle."

"Yeah? You know, I think I will. If it means scaring off guys so much that they won't dare even look your way."

I chuckle, "Why don't you just keep me locked up inside the house?"

"That would work, too." He smiles. "Are you sure you want me to lift weights for that or for your own personal reasons?"

I shove him so hard he loses his footing and there's at least 5 feet between us.

* * *

**A/N: I'm a sucker for details, I'm so sorry. And I just want to include my favorite made-up scenes. All of this writing thing came from that. I included the Peeta vs. Bruce scene at the last minute because I just realized how protective Peeta would be of his wife. Please tell me what you think! Are there things you want me to change? Some scenes you want to see? Just tell me, and don't be afraid to criticize, they help authors see what's there to be improved. Thank you again! But anyway, here's a quote from Peeta in the fourth chapter: **

"**Look, we can still get a divorce if you want."**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm trying to upload a chapter a day. Oh, and in this chapter, you'll have something to look forward to, not like the first three. I just really suck at beginnings. And I'm sorry for that. This one's short, but I had to cut it that way. You'll see why.**

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"Chuck, go geddit!" Finn shouts. The Rottweiler dashes out into the sea and swims to get the driftwood the little boy threw. Finn is jumping excitedly as he sees Chuck running back to him with the stick in its mouth.

The waves here in Four are larger than those in the beach we own. Obviously there are a lot more people here, too. My mom, Annie, and I are sitting on the back porch of Annie's house in the Victors' Village. She and my mom are on beach beds but I insisted I sit on the floor instead, so I can dig my heels into the soft white sand. Peeta and Finn are playing fetch with Chuck. I can just hear Finn's squeals as Peeta hoists him up in his shoulders and runs around.

Peeta would be such a great father. He was born for it. I'm not like him, I'm not ready. Though I'm still infertile because of the shot they gave me, I still have a year or so to make up my mind. But I'm still scared.

What if I'm not enough? What if I don't turn out to be as great as Peeta? What if he wakes up, grown tired of me, of waiting, and he leaves me?

"You're eerily quiet, dear," my mom says, snapping me out of my worried thoughts. I turn my head to look at her. "Is everything okay with you and Peeta?"

"Of course. It's just…"

"What is it?"

"I don't think I can give Peeta what he wants. I'm… I'm not sure I'm ready to have kids."

"Is he pressuring you?" she asks.

"God! Mom, no! No, Peeta would never do that." I reply defensively. "It's… obvious he'd want kids of his own, but I'm not so sure I do."

"It's still early, Katniss. You're only turning twenty one next month. There's still a lot of time. And talk to him about it."

I just nod, her words doing very little to help me. Just as we finish talking, as if on cue, Peeta and Finn return, both dripping in saltwater and sweat. Peeta's legs—both real and prosthetic—are covered in sand, a part of his torso is also smudged with it. He places Finn back on the ground, the kid rushing to his mom.

"Did you have fun?" Annie asks.

"Yes, momma. Uncle Peeta has very wide and comfy shoulders."

We all laugh at that. Peeta wedges himself between me and the post I was leaning on, pulling me to him. I feel him kiss the top of my head. "He's cute, isn't he?"

"Much like his father," I reply quietly. My mind has a bad habit of dwelling on the negative things.

The three of them head back inside, Annie and Finn to clean up, my mom to prepare dinner. Peeta and I are left outside. I straighten myself up so he can't hold me, it's not really helping.

"Everything okay, Katniss?" he asks. Since our very first encounter, Peeta has always been able to sense my needs. The bread. Help to win the Games to get back home. Comfort to get through the nightmares.

I bite my lower lip, maybe the pain would clear my mind. When I don't answer, he shifts so he's facing me. He's trying to read my expression, I can tell. I hate it when he does that sometimes.

He sighs, "Look, we can still get a divorce if you want."

_What? _This makes me look at him, my jaw falling slack.

"No! God, no. It's not that. I love you. I really, really do."

"But?" he asks. I smile sadly. He knows me too well.

"But. I don't want kids."

"You don't want them?"

I frown at this. Do I want kids? There's no Games anymore, I wouldn't have to worry about their lives cut short. But would I want to take care of a baby? Would I want to come home to Peeta playing with our son or daughter? Both?

I picture it in my head, I'll be walking into our door from my hunt. Peeta's holding our son in his arms while cooking our breakfast. Then our daughter would come running to me and hug me. She'll tell me how much she has missed me even though I tucked her into bed. I'd kiss her chubby cheeks, then when I look up, Peeta would be smiling, watching us.

I'd like that, yes. Very much.

I smile, "No, I do want them." Looking back up, I see Peeta beam.

"It doesn't have to be soon, you know. Whenever you're ready."

There goes my heart. I wake up every day thinking I can't love Peeta more, but every day he proves me wrong. I lean in to give him a kiss but before our lips could meet he remembers something and asks me to wait as he gets it. I don't let him go and kiss him anyway, and then he forgets whatever he remembered.

Turns out he wanted to go get his gift for me—a silver necklace with a moon pendant. He says an ancient goddess of the hunt was also the goddess of the moon. When he saw that necklace, he immediately thought of me.

This is the hundredth time I've fallen for him today.

After dinner, we head to an unused Victor house, since we just can't bring ourselves to stay at those houses that have belonged to our friends. The houses here aren't the same as ours, looking more like beach houses, but this is the fishing district anyway. I leave him sitting on the bed in the master's bedroom and fetch my gift for him. It's not as fancy, just a box of new paints made of seashells. I've been told it's smoother than the ones he has back home.

He's delighted, but I think I could give Peeta a branch and he'll react the same way because it's from me. He sets it down the bedside table, then catches my wrists and pulls me on top of him. We kiss, I can smell the salt on his skin. I can taste it, too.

"Happy 1st anniversary," he murmurs against my lips. I smile and give him one last peck before I take off my nightgown.

We stay there for three more days, touring the district and paying a visit to the huge monument for all the fallen heroes and tributes, then we head home.

The day of my birthday comes, and so does Gale's letter. It simply contains a birthday greeting, and him telling me he kind of feels sure of Kate. They have been together for almost a year now. It's the last part that gets me though. It says:

_I love her, Katniss. And even I found that hard to believe because I thought it was always going to be you. Maybe I just needed you and Peeta to get married before I let myself fully love her. And I have, I really love her. I just felt like you should know. _

I don't feel any bit of jealousy, but it's a bit unsettling, what he said about me. I decide to not linger there, he did just tell me he loves Kate. All that aside, I'm happy. I'm happy he found Kate.

I don't write back instantly—I can't—because I'm busy being spoiled. You know, Peeta. It's like we celebrated the whole day. Morning, he surprised me with a breakfast in bed, something called French toast with berries and a cup of tea. Then it's us in the tub as he washes me. He insisted, almost begged actually, so I had to agree. And besides, it is my birthday.

Then it's lunch, we head out to Sae's and am surprised when a small gathering of people are there, outside her house, waiting for us, to celebrate. There's Thom, who is attached to the hip with a girl who isn't from Twelve—I can tell from the auburn hair. The only other redhead I knew from here was Darius.

There's Sae and Mia, Josiah and Chris, the workers who rebuild the district, which have become Peeta and I's friends too because Peeta owns the bakery and Peeta is friends with everyone.

"Happy birthday, Katniss!" they all shout.

I can't help but smile, "Thank you. You didn't have to do this."

"We owe you a lot, Ms. Everdeen." Joseph says, one of the newer workers.

_'Yeah, I owe you the lives of your family members.' _The bitter voice in my head says but I ignore it. I'm trying to be better. I really am so I say, "Just call me Katniss," with a smile on my lips. "And uh, it's Mellark now actually."

"I hope you don't mind," Peeta whispers to me. "I invited half of the district."

"As much as I would have loved to spend the whole day alone with you, this is great, too. Thanks."

"Glad to hear it."

We eat together, and it feels like it's Parcel Day or something because there's so much food on the table. Not as in Capitol-much, but Twelve-much. Everyone's smiling like it's their birthday and not mine. It makes me smile, too.

Peeta brings in a two-tier cake and they all greet me a happy birthday again. He helps me cut it up and tell everyone to help themselves. Some of the original residents of Twelve that I really knew from trading in the Hob or those who came to my mother give me a gift—a medium-sized leather hunting bag. I thank all of them again, my voice breaking a bit because I know they contributed for that, no matter how little they have.

After a bit of dancing I reluctantly I agreed to, the sun is already setting, we call it a day. I offered to help cleaning up but they insisted I don't. And so off we go home. Peeta sits me on the couch and tells me to close my eyes. I do as he says.

He comes down the stairs after a short while and hands me something covered in parchment. "Open," he says.

So I do, my eyes first, then his gift for me.

My shoulders and practically my whole body slack at the sight of my sister smiling—laughing at me. It's her. It's her eyes, her smile. Her hair is in two braids, one of her hands is hovering in the air like she's about to cover her mouth, exactly the way she laughs.

Used to laugh.

I have no idea how Peeta knew that.

She's wearing a yellow dress, the color of the very flower she was named after. It doesn't take long for me to realize that she's in the meadow, and I spot me in the background, like I'm watching her, leaning against a tree, painted carefully by Peeta's hands,

I realize that this is the second birthday I had without her. The first one didn't really count because there wasn't any celebration. I don't even think I remembered it was my birthday.

I'm twenty one, and she would have been seventeen by now, the same age I was when I was in the Quell. _Would have been. If she was still alive._

Then I couldn't help it anymore, so I just let my tears flow. One of them drops on Prim's face and I'm worried it might get ruined. On impulse, I swipe my hand to wipe the tear off and I sigh as I feel glass instead of paper. It's framed, thank God. My fingers landed across her face, then I caress her as I would if she were still here. _I miss you so much, Prim. So much._

I realize I haven't said a word since I saw the painting and I don't think I have the strength, so I wipe my tears away and look at Peeta. He looks worried, and sad.

"We can put it in one of the spare rooms if you don't want it," he suggests, I hear a tinge of disappointment in his voice. I don't like his suggestion, so I will myself to find my voice again.

"No, I want it." I take his hand and pull him down so he sits beside me. I lean my head on his shoulder, looking at the painting again. "She looks so real."

"I figured you wouldn't want to forget her, and the memory book wouldn't be enough."

"Thank you, it's really beautiful."

"Well, that depends on the subject. And she's beautiful. Like you."

I wish I knew exactly what to say like Peeta does. But I don't, so I turn my head and kiss his shoulder instead. He puts an arm around me and I scoot closer to him, to hug him, so I know he is still here, alive, physically with me, not like my sister, who is and will be in my heart forever, but never in my arms again.

* * *

Today marks the third year since the war ended. And like the past two years, a tribute to the fallen heroes is televised. The first year I don't remember what they said, I didn't even watch it. The grief of losing her still too fresh and raw. The second year it was the interviews of the close relatives. I remember turning down the offer to talk about her. It was Gale they aired.

This year it's just Plutarch reading short messages for each of the war heroes and martyrs. For each person it's different, and I appreciate their effort. Everyone deserves respect. Everyone deserved better.

When they get to the members of the very same squad we belonged to, it's too much for me so I stand and sit in the kitchen, leaving Peeta alone in the living room. I stare at the portrait of Prim hung on the wall above one of the kitchen counters. He follows shortly after, but leaves the television on. We don't talk. We just listen.

When it's over, I lead him up to the spare room where we placed Annie's gift, the huge blank canvas, which is now halfway covered in memories. Together we just stare at them, the people we've had the huge fortune of meeting. There's Boggs looking tough to one side, but there's something about him that gives off the aura that he is a kind man. There's Finnick carrying Mags on his back, both of them smiling. Little Rue is on Thresh's shoulders, Foxface is sitting on a slab of rock to the side. There's Wiress singing, our fellow squad members, we even included the Careers because they were part of our lives. But they're not vicious in their portraits, they're all smiling.

This is the right thing to do. To remember them. We can't let their memories be swallowed by oblivion. It's been three years Since. It's hard to believe how much time has passed.

Three whole years…

At first, it's like a short amount of time. But I picture a year-old dog and a three year old dog, a seed and a sapling, a flat empty space and a huge mansion. The person I was and the person I am now. Those who were alive and now gone, here on this planet but not in our memories.

Three years can bring such a great amount of difference, of change, good _and _bad.

And I want to change. But I don't want to leave the past behind. I want to remember, I want to live _with_ it and be happy with it, both good and bad things. I want to do the things I swore I'd never do not just because I can, but because I want to.

And I want to make Peeta happy.

So after two years of religiously taking birth-control pills, when I've thoroughly strengthened and convinced myself that I'm ready, that I can, I stop taking them.

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**A/N: Things are moving forward now. You'll see my plans for them soon. Thanks for reading! Here's something from Peeta in the next chapter: "Hey, it's daddy here."**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Stay with me, you guys. I have plans for them, I promise. This one's short, too, but I'll get back to the usual length, I think, in the next chapter. Thanks for all the reviews, follows and favorites! I hope I won't be disappointing you with how I had imagined their life after marriage.**

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Two red lines.

Positive.

There is life inside me.

I'm pregnant.

Peeta actually lifts me up in his arms and swings me around like I weigh nothing when I tell him the news. When he puts me down again, he kneels and immediately starts talking to my stomach.

"Hey, there. I'm going to protect you with all my life, I promise. Hmm, will you be a little Katniss or a little me?"

"Does it matter, Peeta?"

"No," he replies, grinning at me. "I'll love him or her just the same. I already do." Then he kisses my stomach. Then me.

"I love you," he says, still smiling like he just received the most wonderful news in his entire life. Maybe he did.

In this moment, in our bedroom, with our bare feet, thin clothes and the summer heat coaxing out fat droplets of sweat from us, I know I made the right decision.

* * *

Peeta's more attentive now that he has "two of us to take care of" as he had told me. It's cute actually, how he would never forget to greet our baby a good morning after he has greeted me, or how he now holds me by the waist instead of just taking my hand since "that way I can hold both of you."

We've informed everyone close to us, my mom cried when she learned about the news, telling me how proud she is. Annie was delighted, Finn is excited to have a 'cousin,' which surprised us since kids his age don't usually care about who this is or that. Everyone's supposed to be your playmate.

Gale is genuinely happy for Peeta and me, and he made us promise we'll get him as an uncle. Haymitch is surprised, which is understandable. We're so alike.

We visit the hospital and make an appointment to the obstetrician. Dr. Banks, a brown-haired woman in her mid-thirties from District Four, happily assists us. She performs an ultrasound and we see it, just a tiny, cute, little blip— _our_ baby.

She tells me nothing's wrong _so far_ but given the amount of stress I've endured, I have to be careful. I promise her and Peeta and myself I will.

In a couple of days the whole district knows, and they all seem to be happy for us.

We tell Effie and our other friends in the Capitol, but make them swear on their life they wouldn't spread the news. Given that we've been in the Games, both Peeta and me, they didn't doubt one second that we were serious about killing them personally if they let the secret out.

The news seems to have worked magic to Peeta because ever since he knew about the baby_, _which is three months ago, he hasn't gotten a single flashback.

It worked the other way around for me though, now I dream of losing her, too. I know she's a girl, I just know. I wake thrashing around, crying my head off almost every night, but Peeta's always there to comfort me. He's always there to assure me that it's just a dream, that it's not real, that our baby's still here.

I now have a small baby bump, though barely noticeable, it's enough to remind me that Peeta's right. She's still in there. Still alive and growing inside me.

On my fifth month, after our monthly check-up, we arrive home to a letter from Gale telling us he finally asked Kate the question and she said yes. My best friend, aside from my husband, is finally getting married to a girl he loves with all his heart and loves him back equally, if not greater. I am completely and genuinely happy. He says the wedding would be in fall, which starts in two months. We write a letter back, congratulating the two of them.

Life is moving forward, though I still am scared, every month I'm more anxious, waking up in the middle of the night just to check if she's still in there. I wake Peeta unintentionally on more than one occasion, and when I do, he holds me close and assures me everything's going to be okay.

The first time I feel her moving inside me, I scream in panic because I didn't know what it was. Great thing Peeta was there to suggest that what I felt was probably her. Together we wait for her to move again.

"Hey, it's daddy here," Peeta says, placing his palm on my belly. Almost right away I feel her kick. Peeta looks at me with wide eyes. "Did you feel that?"

I nod, not finding my voice, completely blown away. I feel her kick again, then Peeta's laughing. Then I'm laughing, too. Because I just felt our daughter kick and that means she's alive.

The following months I feel her move every few hours, and I fear she'll be a little bubble of energy that I'll have to look after. I feel tired just imagining all the chasing that's about to happen in a few years, if not months.

Peeta always lights up when he feels her, and on some days a bit of his excitement becomes mine, too.

Three days before Gale's wedding, we ride a train to District Two, my growing belly causing some discomfort along the way. I have to get up numerous times to stretch my legs so I don't get cramps. At around noon of the day before, we finally arrive.

I can't help but compare how different this district is to home. The buildings are made of stone, huge barrack-looking establishments that make our houses in Twelve look like they're made for ants. The streets are wide and paved, too, and all of it makes sense because Two used to be the masonry district.

We stay at a rental house near Gale and Kate's, next to the house where Hazelle and the kids live in. They tell me my mother wouldn't be able to come because she has a lot of things on her hands at the moment. I'm a bit disappointed, I was really hoping she would be here and I could talk to her about all of this pregnancy thing. Annie and Finn aren't here, too, because Finn got the flu and they have to stay home.

The morning of the wedding Peeta and I decide to split up. I go keep Kate company and help while Peeta would try to calm Gale's nerves down. It feels so different because it's not my prep team who are here.

While Kate's friends work on her, we exchange stories. I learn that she has an older brother, Charles, who works as an engineer in the Capitol. He's here and is with Gale, more likely with Peeta, too. They used to live in District Seven, where her mom worked in the small hospital they have there, hence her being a medic. Her father was a lumberjack, but he was killed, one of those men Snow ordered to be executed as examples.

We're silent for a while after she said that, but she speaks again. "Um, Katniss. Do you mind if I ask…"

"Ask what?"

"When did you first love Peeta?"

"Oh," I laugh. "I…I think when we were twelve."

"Twelve? But I thought…"

"I forgot you don't know that story."

So I tell her about that day in the rain, me underneath the apple tree, and Peeta with the bread that saved my life. "After he saved me, I just loved him in a weird unexplainable way. I kept tabs on him without knowing it. Then off we go into the Games, me acting in love at first, him really being in love with me, I save him, he saves me, and we go home. Then the Quell, and it's just basically me falling for him unconsciously. I don't know where it really started, it's just like one minute I have to keep him alive because he kept me alive, and then it's I don't want him to die because I can't live without him."

I find it weird why she would want to know, so I ask her, "Why did you ask?"

"Gale told me your love story was one of a kind."

I laugh, "'One of a kind' doesn't really do our story justice. But yeah, you could say that."

Her friends help her slip into the green dress, their district's—Seven—traditional color, and then it's time for the wedding. We walk out of the house, I see Peeta taking his seat to the right. Gale's already waiting for her.

I leave Kate and take my seat beside Peeta's. The crowd is small, it's just me and Peeta, Hazelle and the kids, though they're not quite kids anymore, Charles and Kate's mother, a few of Kate's friends, and some of Gale's other friends here.

The ceremony is different from ours, but it's still a combination of two different, or maybe three different district traditions. Afterwards, a small reception takes place. There are food, but not as much as we had during our wedding, which of course makes me feel a bit guilty.

After a while I feel pain in my lower-back so I take a seat and leave Peeta by himself so he can go around and socialize. When he notices I'm gone from his side, he excuses himself too and spots me. He walks over, a cup in his hand.

"You alright?" He seats beside me, and places his free arm around my shoulders.

"Just needed to rest my legs," I smile and lean into him. "She's heavy."

"We're almost there, just two more months and she'd be in your arms."

_Two more months to go, Katniss. Just two more months._

I sigh, two months is such a long and short period of time. Every minute means I'm closer to holding her for the first time. I wonder what she'll look like. Will she have my eyes? Or will she have Peeta's? What about her hair, will it be blonde? Or dark like mine?

For the first time, the thought of her inside of my womb doesn't make me nervous and scared, instead I feel excited. In two months, I'll finally be able to carry her in my arms, play with her and kiss her. I'll see Peeta play with her, too, and take care of her like he takes care of me.

We bid good night to the newly-wed couple, and while we're walking back to the house I realize that tonight is their wedding night. My best friend's wedding night. The scene I have in my head makes me stop in my tracks.

"What's wrong?" Peeta asks right away, already moved in front of me.

"It's their wedding night."

"Huh?"

"It's Gale and Kate's wedding night, Peeta. I just realized that. I'm okay."

"Oh, oh my God, it is. Do—do you think they'll—"

"Probably," I say quickly, cutting him off. The word still makes me feel awkward and uncomfortable. Strangely though, the act doesn't. But anyway.

We board a train heading for home at noon the following day, bidding our goodbyes to everyone. The two of us tired, there was nothing else we wanted to do but sleep. So we do.

I wake to the sound of the announcement that we'd be arriving in an estimated time of ten minutes. I sit up, the effort needed almost making me feel like abandoning it but luckily, Peeta's up now, too. He helps me sit upright.

His hair is all ruffled from sleep, every strand is literally sticking out. I reach up to pat it down but I may have applied too much force because he almost doubles over. He seems really out of it, which is a good thing because that means he slept well.

For the whole ten minutes I just watch him as he tries to shake of his sleepiness. I see him shake his head like a dog, stretch, even resorting to slap himself. But with the exasperated expression he has on his face, I can tell it didn't work.

"Need help waking up?" I ask.

He turns to me and smiles guiltily. I take that as a yes, so I pull him towards me until our lips meet. I debate on letting the hunger take over, but I decide that he'd be more awake if he doesn't get what he wants. Delayed gratification. One of the few new things Peeta has taught me.

Anyways.

I pull away just as the train halts to a stop. He definitely looks more awake now. Together we sit on the bed in our compartment as the rest of the passengers squeeze themselves out of the train. After a few minutes, Peeta stands and stretches, then turns and offers his hand. I take it and stand, and I'm immediately greeted by a jolt of pain to my side. Probably from sitting and lying too long.

We walk out of our compartment, the train, and into the station, Peeta carrying both of our suitcases in his left hand and holding my hand in the other.

People greet us on our way, saying they've missed us walking around town. Everything feels fine until we've reached the gate of the Victors' Village and I feel a sharp aching in my womb. It's a different kind of pain, an entirely new kind. I cry out and fall to my knees, losing my grip on Peeta's hand. I feel nauseous, and the world around won't stop spinning too fast. Something red pools beneath me. My vision blurs, and I feel so weak and heavy that I let myself crumple to the ground. The last thing I see is Peeta's face and I think he cradles me in his arms, then I black out.

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**A/N: Preview quote from chapter six: "I couldn't lose you."**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Okay, I would like to say I'm sorry in advance. But this is not the end of their story. Please read this chapter first, please. I'd be leaving an explanation at the end, just in case it's still not clear to you why I did what I did. You could leave me questions and I'll try to answer them in the next chapter.**

**(Thanks for all the support you guys, especially chemistrykim, tmitidlover0412, and princessafiya!)  
**

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I can't feel anything. I seem to have lost the ability. Everything's dark, I can't see. Not a single sliver of light.

No.

_No. _I can't be in this world again. Not where nothing matters and all that exists is nothingness and numbness that eats you and will not let you go unless you wake up.

Wake up.

I force myself to open my eyes and it takes all the energy I have left. A bright light blinds me and I instinctively raise my arm to cover my eyes. But I can't. Because someone's hands are covering mine.

_Peeta._

I think I hear him say my name. I turn to the direction of his voice, and slowly, he emerges from the white expanse of light in my vision. He stands, then I can see the rest of his body take form. He's crying.

My eyes adjust finally and I realize I'm in a hospital room. Two different tubes spring out from my right hand. I feel a couple of patches on my torso, connecting me to some monitor to my right.

"Katniss…"

I look at him again, and he hasn't stopped crying. I try to remember what happened, then for an unknown reason my eyes drift to my womb, hoping she could give me an answer.

But I can't feel her anymore.

Everything clicks into place, and I understand everything, and I strongly wish I didn't because maybe right now, she would still be in there, alive and growing and not dead and gone.

"Katniss…" he whispers. I look at him, my cheeks already wet with tears.

"She's gone, isn't she?"

"I couldn't lose you," he says. "They—they made me choose and I thought I was ready to be a father—that I was ready to do anything for her but I'm not. I'm sorry, Katniss. I just couldn't lose you."

My brain is buzzing, processing everything Peeta has said to me. Made him choose? Not lose me? So that means there was a way to save her, but it's either me or her who gets to live. And Peeta chose me.

This is supposed to make me feel a bit better, but it doesn't. It hurts so much. It hurts and I don't think anything can help me. I need to scream. I need to cry. I need to shout.

"You should have saved her over me!" I burst. I'm breaking. I'm shattered. I'm in pieces. She's gone. I could never hold her in my arms. I'd never see her smile at me, hear her laugh, watch her take her first steps. I'll never be a mother to her because she's dead.

I think I'm yelling, but my mind doesn't register anything and I feel myself slowly slipping away, tucked in that blanket of nothing, and pulled under for a long dreamless sleep.

* * *

Voices. I hear voices. I struggle to wake but fighting the drug off makes it harder to focus. Then I remember my science teacher all of sudden, telling our whole class that sometimes, when you lose a sense, your body heightens another particular sense to make up for it. So I just let my eyes remain closed and listen in to the conversation I'm hearing.

"The obstetrician said it's because of her body. All those stress from the Games and the war had some lasting effects. She said Katniss… she wasn't ready. It didn't make sense though. I mean…we got to the seventh month. She carried her for seven months and then she tells me she's not ready?"

Peeta. His voice is cracking. He's angry, and his anger unexpectedly soothes me.

"No one's ever sure of anything, Peeta. Some things just come and catch us off guard and there's nothing we can do." A pause. "How long has she been out before she came to?" a familiar female voice asks.

"T-two days. The doctors actually told me that she might not wake up again. But she did."

"I'm guessing she broke down. That's why they sedated her?"

"Y-yes. She—she didn't take the news well. She loved her so much, and I loved her, too, Mrs. Everdeen." My mom. "I loved both of them. But I really just couldn't lose her. And even if by some miracle that somehow what they're proposing to me works and our baby lives, I don't think I can raise her alone. I need her by my side."

I finally break free from the drug, I know it. I can hear clearer now. But I don't dare move.

"She might not agree to this, but I'm glad you chose her. I…I couldn't lose Katniss, too. I'll go completely crazy, a woman with nothing to live for. I'll probably just off myself."

This makes me open my eyes. I haven't seen this side of my mother before, she never ever talked about suicide. I lost a father, a sister, and a daughter, she lost a husband and a daughter, too, and taking your own life when you're given more time to live than others would be a huge insult.

And she's right, too. I'm the only real family she has now.

"She's awake." I see my mom stand from the side and walk to my bed.

"Mom," I whisper. I can't say anything else because I know I will cry if I said something about her. "Mom."

She just holds my hand as she sits on the bed. "I'm here, Katniss."

"Mom."

"It's okay."

I shake my head because it's not. Nothing's okay. I just killed my daughter. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have let her be conceived in the first place.

"It'll get better, dear. Pr—your sister will take care of her."

This rubs me the wrong way, and then I'm yelling again. "I killed them! I killed both of them! Why does everybody have to die? Why do they get to be the lucky ones and I'm doomed… to live…with their…bl-blood on…on my…hands."

Even with all the haziness that clouds my vision, I see Peeta rise from his seat and hold my mother as tears fall from her face. And I'm falling, falling, falling, falling…

* * *

I get discharged eventually, oblivious to how long has it been. I don't speak. I can't. Peeta helps me walk, stand, sit, anything. He doesn't talk, too, because by now, he knows there's nothing he can say to ease the pain I'm feeling.

For a month or so I live in our room. I don't get up voluntarily. I only eat because of the fear etched on Peeta's face. He scoops me up every morning and sits me on the counter in our bathroom. Then he uses a piece of damp cloth to wipe off the dirt or whatever it is on my skin. It becomes a new routine, and if I were the person I was before, I know I'd hate it because I feel helpless. But I'm not. And I don't care.

I'm near the point where I can tolerate the pain, but I make the mistake of looking down, and I see the bump. It almost looks like she's still in there. Almost. And then I'm determined. I get up now every morning and exercise, do anything to tire myself so I can lose the bump, just another painful reminder of her. The daughter I almost had.

Peeta lightens up a bit when he notices me moving around, I can see hope in his eyes. I know better though, I'll never be the same. It only takes me a mere three months to get my stomach back to how it looked before. This makes me feel slightly better, because now I can pretend I'm okay again.

But then one day a mockingjay perches on our windowsill and chirps out the tune I used to hum to her when I'm not doing anything and I lose it. I sob myself mindless, and Peeta finds me on the floor, my head in my arms, curled up in a fetal position. He doesn't say anything, just lifts me up in his arms and sits me in the middle of the bed. Then he moves to sit behind me and holds me.

In a matter of minutes, we're both wet from all our tears. I don't understand. I don't get it. Why is he crying with me? It's me who lost a child, it's my fault she's dead. I was the one who carried her. She was my dau—

My heart falls to my stomach.

I get it now.

Peeta's crying because she was his daughter, too.

That realization somehow lifts some of the pain away from me. Because now I'm aware I'm not alone. And this is something I should have known ever since, I was never alone. Peeta was, is, and will always be there. Everything I feel, whether it be good or bad, I'll always share it with him. And I can't let agony be the only thing he'll get from me.

And so I try again, I try to get better. Every day I look in the mirror and talk myself through a day, more or less like I did in Thirteen, listing off the things I'm sure of. About me, mostly. But this time, it's not just about me. I include Peeta and my mom and her, too. I tell myself that I still have Peeta, and if I had died, my mom would have died, too. There's a great chance that Peeta would die, too. And I can't let more people die because of me. I have to live.

I'm still broken, the lack of affection I share with Peeta serves proof. I only kissed him again that day I broke down. Today it's five months since, and I haven't opened the letters that came, no doubt all of them consoling us for our loss.

For months we don't do anything sexual, just one or two kisses a day, and he doesn't push me. I feel like I'm punishing him for something he didn't really do, so when we've settled underneath the covers, I turn and make him face me.

"Hey," I tell him, not knowing where to start.

"Hey."

"I…I love you, Peeta. And…and I'm sorry if I've been difficult. I…" I lose all the energy to speak. I break eye contact and stare at the hem of his shirt.

"It's been a difficult time for the both of us," he says.

I nod. "I'm being unfair."

"Unfair?"

"We didn't get to celebrate our fifth anniversary because of me. And… and," _Ugh. _Damn my 'purity.' "Don't you miss it?" I ask instead.

"Miss what?"

"The…you know. What we do? I mean, all you've gotten from me are brief kisses. Is that enough?"

For the first time after what feels like a year I hear him laugh again. And the absurdity of what I'm trying to tell him hits me and I smile. "Katniss Everdeen," he says.

"Mellark," I correct.

"Okay. Katniss Mellark, my love, first of all, how very thoughtful of you. Second, I'm pretty sure whatever it is you're feeling, whatever it is that's holding you back, I feel it, too. And lastly, no. I don't miss the sex."

"You don't?" My eyes narrow, because I've listened to enough conversations Gale has with some of his friends to know they like _it _a lot. But I guess, this is Peeta. He's not 'most men.'

"I don't." He answers. Then considers it for a moment, "Well maybe I do, kind of, but I'm not desperate."

"Okay." I kiss him goodnight and close my eyes.

The dream pulls me in right away and I'm transported from my bed to a meadow. Everything's green and flourishing. I walk forward, and I hear laughter from the other side of the hill. It makes my heart ache, because I know it's _her_.

I come up the clearing and I see her—them. Prim and my child. She's running around, Prim holding both of her hands, guiding her. My child. My child, it turns out she can meet her aunt after all.

"Prim!" I shout. She sees me, and _her, _too. I run to meet them, and I can't help it anymore so I cry. I feel Prim's arms embrace me, and a pair of smaller ones on my leg. It feels so good. I wish Peeta were here, too, so he can hold our child. "I miss you. Both of you."

"I miss you, too, Katniss."

"Me, too!" a small voice shouts. I break our embrace and look at her. She has Peeta's features, from the hair to the paleness of her skin, but she has my eyes. I take her into my arms and she hugs me, and I'm crying again. "I love you so much, Mama. Tell Papa I love him, too."

"Mama and Papa love you, too. We love you so much." My voice is breaking and I'm crying but I don't care. I'm holding her in my arms and that's all that really matters now.

"Mama, can you do something for me? And Papa too?"

"Yes, yes. Of course. We'd do anything for you."

"I want you and Papa to stop crying. I don't like watching you cry from up here. It makes me sad."

"We're just crying because we miss you…" I trail off. She doesn't have a name. I have to give her one before she leaves me again. I look around me, and all I see are flowers. A white flower catches my eye, it's so white, so pure, but unlike Snow's roses, this flower gives off an aura of innocence and humility. Like her.

"Lily," I whisper.

"I know you and Papa miss me, but I'm okay now. Aunt Prim's taking care of me. Grandpa, too."

"Grandpa?" I question.

"Yeah, Grandpa Forrest," she says. My dad. "And Grandpa Mel. And Grandpa Phil." Which I assume are Peeta's father, Mel for Mellark, and Gale's father, Philip Hawthorne. "I have so many uncles, Mama. Why is that? There's Uncle Rye and his brother, then Uncle Finnick and Boggs and Castor and a lot more. I can't rem'ber their names! Ooh, there's Grandpa Forrest!" she shouts and waves to someone behind me. I turn and find myself facing my father.

"Dad…" I breathe out.

"Hello, Katniss. Been a long time, don't you think?"

A laugh escapes me, and I hug him. He hasn't aged a bit, he looks even younger. This is all so confusing, my child who wasn't born is a toddler, and my dad who left us when he was only starting to get wrinkles looks just a few years older than Peeta. Is this what they call heaven?

"Wait! Wait," I pull away. "I'm not dead, am I?"

My father laughs, "No, dear. It's not your time yet. And I hope it's not sometime soon." He smiles at me, pinches Lily's cheek, and then takes my hand and Prim's. He used to hold us like this when we're going home, we used to wait for him at the Seam-Town border then we'll walk home together. The memory makes me even happier. We sit on a fallen log, me in the middle of him and my sister. Lily is still in my arms, playing with the end of my braid.

"Katniss, I know you've been through a hard time," he says to me. "You've been through a lot, and your journey's not over yet. You have a long life ahead of you, and I know that at some points, they'll be so heavy that you start to give up. And I don't want that. I can't do anything directly, but Peeta can. He's a wonderful man, Katniss. And I know he loves you with all he has, just like I love your mother, and the both of you, my girls. All I'm trying to say is that the two of you have so much love, and it would be put to waste if you don't let it bear fruit. I know you tried, and I know you feel like you've failed. I've heard all of your cries, but this I want you to know, it's worth it. Even now that I'm gone, I still am happy we brought the two of you to this world. I want you to feel that kind of happiness, too." I see him smile at me, and it feels final.

"Don't be afraid, Katniss. Never ever be afraid when it comes to love. Because it's worth it."

And slowly, everything around me starts to vanish. I don't want it to end yet, but I can't stop it. With one last glance at them, and one last kiss to Lily, our daughter, I let them fade away, but I make sure to memorize their smiles.

When I wake up, I blink, and I swear I can still see them waving at me. I bury my face into Peeta's shirt and cry. I've seen my daughter. And my dad and Prim. Lily. She's okay. She'll be well taken care of.

"Are you okay, Katniss? You looked at peace just seconds ago."

I sniff and nod against his chest. "I held her, Peeta. She was in my arms." I tell him about my dream, about our daughter, Lily, and my dad, and his dad, and Prim. I tell him everything. By the time I finish, he's crying, too.

"She looks like me?"

I nod again, "She has your hair and nose and lips and everything, Peeta. Even your skill with words and the calmness that you bring. The only thing she got from me was her eyes." We laugh, and I don't know. This is a miracle, though we never saw her in person, it's such a blessing to have this. Even just this dream.

Peeta gets the idea of painting her, and I tell him yes. We work on it all afternoon, and finally, finally I see her smiling at us. "That's her," I tell Peeta. And he does something I never would have expected to come from him.

He brings the painting close to his chest, hugs it—or her, then he starts talking to her. He tells him he misses her, and he's sad that he didn't meet her. He hopes she visit him, too. He says he loves her so much. He's crying so hard now that he can't speak anymore.

"Oh, uh, Peeta?"

"Yeah?" he sniffs.

"She told me that we should stop crying over her. She said she's okay and it makes her sad seeing us cry."

"Really, Katniss?" he asks, smiling. "You're going to tell me that only now that I have snot all over my face and probably my shirt, too?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't think you'd do that!"

He smiles at me, then looks up. "Papa looks awful crying, don't I? But okay, we won't cry anymore. I promise." He looks back at me and raises his eyebrows.

"I can't promise anything, Lily. But I'll try. I promise to try."

* * *

**A/N: First things first, I don't know if it's just me or it's because I'm the author of this fanfic or anything but I feel like I _know _Katniss. I feel like I know what's happening in her mind. That could be just me though.  
****But anyway, explanation. Yes. **

**In my world, Katniss, ever since Peeta came back, hope came back to her, too. Because Peeta, the one thing she lost and at some point thought that she would never have again, came back to her. After he strangled her, she literally gave up on him. If not for Haymitch and Prim, she never would have spoken to him again. Now she has him back, and that's enough for her to believe that life can be good again. And because they're luckier than most, she's really trying to make the rest of her life a worthwhile period of time. I also thought that fifteen years is a bit too long if Katniss is trying to get better. When she said "five, ten, fifteen years," I knew there had to be a reason why she split it up. Or maybe it's just for emphasis. Anyway, I made her lose Lily for her to be scared again. I needed her _scared _because according to Mockingjay, it really was fifteen years and I'm trying to be as canon as possible.**

**I think that's all that matters now but if you still have some things to ask, feel free to leave them. **

**Usual preview quote from the next chapter: "You don't have to deal with anything alone." **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I hope the last chapter didn't discourage you from supporting this story. But anyway, here's the next one. Consider this a peace offering. (I have plans for them, okay? Trust me.)  
**

* * *

There isn't a single day that I don't look at the painting of Lily hung on the wall in our room. And as I've promised, I really try to stop crying over her. I really am trying, but some days I just can't help it. The grief just comes in full force that I feels crippled and paralyzed. On those days, Peeta takes care of me, save for that one day he had an episode and we had to stay in bed the whole day.

Seven months after that awful day, I finally open the stack of letters on the bedside table addressed to Peeta and me—lovers whose stars haven't been uncrossed. Everyone close to us has written, we even got one from Johanna. I read her letter first and I'm shocked to find out that she was supposed to have a sister, but due to the stunt she pulled in her Games, the Capitol had her supposed-to-be sister aborted. Not long after, when she continued to decline the long line of Capitol people who found her desirable, Snow had every single person in her family killed.

I write a response right away and seal in it an envelope, then I read the rest of the letters alone since Peeta isn't home yet. Haymitch has written one and I doubt he went to the station and dropped it there. He must have just slipped it under our front door. Instead of writing back, I leave all the unopened letters for a while and head for his house. I can't see any light turned on inside his house but I'm surprised to find him slightly sober and is actually munching on a piece of bread. When he sees me, he stands and I hug him.

"Thank you, Haymitch."

"Sweetheart, I want you to remember that whether I'm drunk or not, I'm here for you. For the both of you."

I just nod, my voice suddenly nonexistent. He pulls away then sends me back home, telling me Peeta would be home soon from the station.

As soon as I step out of the house, I see him walking with a paper bag in his hands. Instead of heading home, I walk towards him so we can walk back together.

"How long have you been awake?" he asks.

"About an hour. I was just reading the letters."

When he's settled, he joins me in opening and reading the rest. It takes us about half an hour to get to the last handful. My eyebrows furrow when I see that we've gotten two letters from Gale, one is dated six months ago and the other one's dated just a week ago. Together we read the older letter, its content identical to the rest. Then we open the next, and I don't know why I'm feeling a bit nervous.

Peeta reads it aloud, but his voice gets softer and softer as he reaches the end. And I totally understand why.

Gale and Kate are having a baby.

The first thing I felt was nervousness, then jealousy, then complete and utter sadness and longing. I look to Peeta and I know he's feeling the same thing. But I can't be sad at this. We should be happy for our friends.

"Well, that's great news," I manage to say, a lousy attempt at breaking the gloomy atmosphere. It seems to have worked a little because Peeta smiles.

"Yeah, it's great. Oh, Katniss?"

"What?"

"I… I have to go back to the bakery. I just remembered something."

"I'll come with you," I say. I don't have any plans for today anyway and my guts tell me something's wrong.

"No, it's fine. You don't have to. And besides, I'll be working a lot so we won't even get to talk to each other."

Yep, something is. Peeta has never been this evasive, but if he wants to be alone, I'll let him. It's the least I could do. I know he's keeping things to himself again, but I'll let this one pass. "Okay, I'll just stay home. Or if I'm not here when you get back, I'm probably out in the woods."

He stands and walks to the door without even saying anything back to me. Which means whatever it is that's bothering him is worse than what I have in mind. "Peeta?" I call out. He stops and faces me. "Will you be okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, of course. I'll just be baking. Nothing worse than mild burns."

With that he leaves and I'm left alone again. He only comes back a little after eleven in the evening, which causes me to be a bit angry at him for staying out so late. I pretend to be asleep just to see what he'll be up to. I feel the bed dip because of his weight, the blanket is lifted and he slides underneath it, his hand brushes against the small of my back so I'm guessing he's facing the ceiling. I hear him sigh, then his lips are pressed against the back of my head. I'm waiting for his arms to wrap around me but they don't.

Well, at least he kissed me.

I let my eyes close and finally sleep. Peeta's here. He's safe.

But when I wake, he isn't by my side. Only a piece of paper with his handwriting is there to assure me he isn't gone. A trip to the kitchen lets me know he didn't eat the dinner I left for him.

He doesn't come back for lunch or dinner. I'm stuck waiting for him on the couch downstairs. I must have fallen asleep because it's morning again, and I'm in our room, still with no Peeta beside me on the bed.

This continues for a week, then extends to weeks, then weeks become months and I can't take it anymore. He's told me not to wait up for him but I can't. This is too much. So one night, I sit on the couch after drinking two awful cups of coffee. I've never been a fan of the stuff, but they serve their purpose. When he steps into the house at fifteen minutes before midnight, I'm still buzzing with energy. Though I do pretend to be asleep. I have my back to the doorway but I keep my legs dangling to one side of the couch so he'd see me.

"I told you not to wait anymore," I hear him say to himself, a bit of annoyance tinging his voice. Okay then.

"You actually expect me to listen to you?"

The thud of his footsteps stop and I know I took him by surprise. I stand and face him, gripping the back of the couch to stop myself from punching him like I did that day by the lake. "What's happening, Peeta? Forget that we're married?"

He doesn't answer nor move when I give him a chance, so I gladly take it. "I don't see you anymore. The only time I feel your presence is when you carry me to the bed. That's it. Is anything wrong, Peeta? Finally got tired of me? Look, I'm sorry I'm difficult. We really—"

"No," he cuts me off. "I'm not tired of you. I told you I'll never be, remember?"

"Then what is it?" I ask. If he isn't tired of me yet, the only other reason he could have for staying out is…

I gulp, but I force myself to get the words out. "Do you have another woman?"

"No! Katniss, no. It's just you, I promise."

I walk over to where he is and hold him by the elbows. I search his eyes, hoping I could get the answer I'm looking for. This is one of those times they're easier to read than their owner himself. "Tell me. No more secrets, remember?"

He's chewing on his bottom lip, intent on not meeting my gaze. "It's Lily." He finally admits. "I just miss her. A lot more now that…that Gale and Kate are…I just feel like it's so unfair."

"It is unfair, Peeta. I feel cheated, too. But I'm trying not let that get to me because this is my best friend and his wife. I can't just let my grief get the better of me. I made that mistake once and I don't want to do it again." I sigh. "But please, Peeta. Know that I'm here, too."

His eyes finally drift to mine and they're sad. He leans in so our foreheads are touching, then his eyes close. I don't know, but suddenly I feel the great need to comfort him. And it's like I've been practicing the lines in my head because for the first time in my life, I know what to say. "Do you remember that one time you held me as we cried together?" I ask.

He nods, "That was the day you kissed me again."

"Yeah, and do you know what gave me the strength to do that? Even though in my head I've completely convinced myself to abandon any form of affection for the rest of my life?" I ask him. Letting go of his elbows, my hands move up to hold his face. "It was simply a thought. I realized that I'm not alone. That no matter how much pain I'm feeling, you feel it, too. Because it wasn't only me who lost a daughter. You lost her, too. And everything I have, I share with you. So everything you have, you share with me. Be it good or bad, I'm with you. You don't have to deal with anything alone."

* * *

Gale and Kate are celebrating their first anniversary today, which means we lost Lily almost a year ago. Before I even open my eyes, I'm already crying. I dreamt of her, she was just waving at me, and no matter how much I try to get to her, I never do. The last thing I remember was her telling me she loves me.

The dream is fading, so I open my eyes. I look up to see Peeta staring at the portrait he made of Lily. Of course he knows what day today is. "I still miss her," he whispers to me, then plants a kiss on the top of my head.

We get up eventually, then I take him to the lake again. We needed to be somewhere peaceful. The whole time we spend there we only pick flowers. On our way back home, it's raining so we take a break and sit underneath a tree. The feel of the trunk against my back and the rain on my face brings up a memory from years ago.

"I was also sitting underneath a tree that day I started to love you," I tell Peeta, just to lift up the mood. I'm also determined to make this day count for something else, not just for pain.

He looks at me confusingly, "You loved me then?"

"Not romantically, of course. But if somebody saves your life, it's a given you kind of love them. I don't know, it seems I'm the only one who has experienced that."

"What about me? You saved me but I loved you romantically, as you've nicely put."

"Peeta, you loved me that way even before I saved you."

"You think I'm talking about the Games?"

"What?" I ask. What does he mean?

"When we were kids, I had a crush on you. Up until now, but that's not my point. And you know my mother beats me, right?"

I nod.

"Well, sometimes it gets a bit too much and I just want to give up and stop breathing. You know," he makes a slicing gesture to his neck. "Take my own life."

Oh my God, Peeta has thought of killing himself.

And it's because of that witch. How dare she hurt my Peeta? This man who's the kindest person I know and deserved a lot better. Honestly speaking, I still can't believe she was capable of giving life to her complete opposite. Except maybe when Peeta was brainwashed into thinking he doesn't love me, and he hurt me in a way I never thought he's capable. Those times I swear I knew he was her son. But that doesn't matter now, I have him back.

"But then I'd remember you," he continues, pushing away the homicidal thoughts in my head to the back of my mind. "I'll tell myself, 'I'm not going to die today because I have to hear Katniss Everdeen sing again.' And so I won't give up because you're still alive and I'll still see you and there's a small chance I'll hear you singing and all the birds would listen and be mesmerized like I would be."

I can't think of anything to say. Peeta has said so many things I haven't heard before. But this is on a very different level. And my mind won't focus on anything else but the fact that Peeta was suicidal.

I won't even know that my jaw has dropped if he hadn't used his hand to close it.

"Is it that surprising? I used to think everyone here is suffering and want to kill themselves, too."

"They're… they're suffering, yeah." I stammer out. "I did, too, and sometimes it really got too much but I never ever thought of killing myself."

"Well, lucky you," he simply says.

"How frequent do you think of… of that?" I just can't say 'killing yourself' out loud. I don't know, I just can't.

"It depends on how bad I feel. In reality, I think of killing myself even when my mom isn't beating me. Just you know, whenever I feel alone."

"You felt alone?" I exclaim. "What about your friends? You had so many!"

"They weren't really 'friends'. Just some people I spend time with and try to make happy."

"Oh, of course. You're Peeta Mellark. You'd be sacrificing your happiness for others. Of course. But, Peeta, you never did try to…do it, right?"

I hope as hard as I can he says no because I can't take it if he had tried. But the guilty smile that's plastered on his face confirms what I dread.

He has. Peeta has tried to take his own life.

If seconds ago my jaw went slack, now I think my tongue has retreated to my throat because I can't speak.

"I was at my worst. I had no one to confide in. And if it isn't obvious, I wasn't successful. The fence wasn't on then. The wound on my wrist healed up too fast. But—"

"What were you thinking?!" I burst out so loud some mockingjays perched on the nearby branches fly away. My hands immediately catch his wrists to look at the scars that should be there but I find none.

"Apparently, the Capitol was able to remove the scars after our first Games," he says. It's only now that I appreciate Gale more. I didn't have a lot of people in my life, yes, but I had real friends. They were always there for me.

"And, Katniss, is this really something new to you? Are you forgetting those days in the Capitol when I was literally begging you to kill me?"

"You were being… noble," I say. "That was different."

We fall silent, me mostly from shock, the light drizzle before now full-on showering us with ice-cold droplets. I urge Peeta to go further into the woods, maybe we could find a spot so covered by trees no rain can slip through.

We find one, but it's not kept dry by the foliage. It's a small outcropping of rocks which looks like a cave from afar. It's about five feet wide and a good four and a half feet high. Just enough space for us to squeeze in. Perfect, really.

We settle down on the floor, Peeta lifting one end of his coat so I can snuggle against him. I have my eyes trained on the rock in front of me when he speaks. Droplets of water from above continuously drop onto the rock, creating a soothing rhythm.

"What are we doing, Katniss? Taking a trip down memory lane?"

Memory lane?

"First, the apple tree, and then a cave?"

"Oh. I swear, I didn't plan any of this. Everything's coincidental."

We're quiet again, and since my previous effort of trying to lift the mood up only gave me violent thoughts, I try a different tactic. If this works out like I planned, we'd have spent so much time by then, and hopefully the rain would have stopped. "Peeta, have I told you about that one kiss in the cave?"

"What kiss?" he asks. Good.

"You remember that kiss we shared after the feast? When your wound's healing properly and I just woken up?"

He thinks for a moment, then says, "Yeah. I think we stopped because your wound was bleeding again. What about that?"

"That was the first time I felt something when I was kissing you."

"First time?"

Shit. That came off offensive. "I mean, yeah. The other kisses just kind of felt like…obligatory. But I liked some of them, some were different. I mean, I felt something…something like…I don't know. Like I don't ever want to stop kissing you."

"Why are you telling me this, Katniss?"

I sigh. Fine, then. I'll just tell him if I can't show him. "Because I want you to know things change."

* * *

Our sixth anniversary comes, and unlike the previous ones, we stay in Twelve. Technically, this would be our second anniversary at home but the last one doesn't really count because we weren't in the mood for celebrations. So I have no idea what to expect. I also promised myself that on this day, from this moment onwards, I would not let my past negatively affect my present.

Or at least, I'll try.

Upon waking up, I find that Peeta is still softly snoring away underneath me. I take this opportunity to do something for him instead of waiting for him to do something for me. It's like a game we play, always trying to repay the other even though we both know what we've given to each other is priceless. There is nothing else you can give to repay someone who has saved your life but your life itself. But it doesn't mean we can't try.

I go downstairs and prepare breakfast. Cooking isn't my strong suit but I know the basics. Which also translates to 'I can keep myself from getting burned just fine.' I've had practice anyway.

Breakfast consists of slightly overcooked pancakes with berries and syrup on the side, some eggs, and steaming mugs of hot chocolate for us. Not finding enough strength to carry them all at once, I take them upstairs individually, or just how much I could carry without spilling anything. By the time I finish, Peeta's still asleep.

Asleep, on our bed, without crinkles on his forehead that are the usual signs of a nightmare, and with his hands clutching my pillow. Most likely something he does when he wakes up without me by his side.

I fear what I've prepared would cool soon, so I decide to wake him up. Gently, of course. I climb up the bed again and lean over him. He looks so relaxed that I start having second thoughts about waking him. The voice inside my head screams at me to just do it, and I could use this day to make him that relaxed anyway. Awake.

"Hey." I use my hand to brush his hair back from his forehead. He tilts his head a bit, kind of like leaning in to my hand. "Peeta, wake up. Breakfast's ready."

He just sighs, and I'm left hovering above him, confused. Does he not remember what today is?

But he smiles, and without opening his eyes, straight up greets me a happy anniversary. This brings out a chuckle from me which immediately fades as soon as his eyes meet mine. I'm not denying it, Peeta looks incredibly dashing especially up close. That kind of dashing where you just want to press your lips against his.

So I pull him up and out of the bed, my feet taking me to the bathroom.

"Why are we heading for the bathroom?"

"So you can brush your teeth."

"Don't I get to eat first? Those looked appetizing."

"No. Brush your teeth," I say, making sure my tone sounded official.

I push him into the bathroom and wait outside the door, the smell of our food effectively distracting me. Peeta comes out, raking a hand through his hair that seems to be needing a trim, with a towel on one of his shoulders. He sees me and pulls me to him, our bodies touching.

"So," he says. "When did brushing my teeth become so important?"

"Just earlier," I say, standing up on my toes to kiss him. I can feel the corners of his lips turning upward, I find myself mirroring his actions, too. After one last peck, I make him sit on the bed and pull the tray toward us. We feast, both seemingly hungrier than usual, not a piece of food left on our plates. The hot chocolate—which isn't so hot anymore—finishes our meal.

"I think I should leave the cooking to you," Peeta jokes.

"I don't want to burn down the house so you take care of it."

The day is spent inside the house, like a day-off from the whole world and everything else in it that isn't us, us being Peeta and me. We're not very old, both of us only twenty five, but we agreed on taking a nap right after breakfast.

I guess this is us dealing with the stress we got from those traumatizing three years.

The alarm beeps, and I'm forced to wake up hours later. It's either I'm up before it goes off in the mornings or I've slept through it. Three's a chance Peeta turns it off right away while I'm still asleep.

What I'm trying to say is that I do not know how to work the noisy clock. The damned thing wouldn't stop blaring. Eventually, after a considerable amount of turning around and swear words, I figure out how to turn it off, just a button to the side. When I turn to snuggle in again, Peeta's propped up on our pillows and is smiling sleepily at me.

"Katniss Everdeen versus an alarm clock. Interesting."

"It's Mellark."

"Oh, right. Katniss Mellark. My wife."

"Seriously, Peeta. We've been married six years."

He kind of frowns and smiles at the same time, "I still can't believe it, you know? When I was thirteen, I was already certain I would only wake up to you in my dreams. But now, here I am, my arms around you just minutes ago, on the day of our _sixth_ wedding anniversary. Who knew, right?"

"Well, I'm certain I didn't," I say, crawling back to him.

"Are we just going to sleep the whole day?" he asks, kissing me.

"Well, how am I supposed to reply if you're ki—" I don't finish because Peeta's cuts me off midsentence with another kiss. Ironic. I know.

I give up on talking, my mouth's preoccupied anyway. My arms move up to encircle his neck, my whole body humming. I feel him pull me closer, my legs giving way to his.

What I said to him in that cave that day in the woods seems to have worked because we're not holding back now. And since it wasn't only weeks that has passed since we last did it, it was months, a hell lot of months, it felt like the first time.

* * *

**A/N: Progress, my dear readers. Fret not. Katniss would obviously not wallow in grief for the rest of her life. (I cant wait 'til you read the epilogue! That's my most favorite thing at the moment)  
PS: This would only have twelve chapters (so just five more chapters to go) and an epilogue, and personally, I think it's too short. I wanted to write more about them, but I couldn't find a way around it. I was thinking of posting one-shots, maybe you guys could send me prompts and I'll try to write them? I'm still not sure though, I'll just post my decision after the epilogue. Thanks for all the support (again)! And for adding this story to a community! Wow, I didn't even know how communities worked until earlier.**

**Something from chapter eight: "Do you wanna hold him?"**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: It's already May 8 here in my country so I'd like to greet my favorite heroine, Katniss Everdeen, a happy birthday! Here's another chapter. Hope you like this one. And huge thanks to those who tell me they're loving this fic! Means a lot!  
**

* * *

A few months later a letter from the Hawthornes arrive telling us that Kate has given birth to a healthy baby boy, Ash. Of course, we couldn't avoid feeling a pang of jealousy but it seems Peeta has accepted it. Whatever it is. Maybe Lily just wasn't meant for us.

We book a trip to District Two to pay them a visit after getting another letter inviting us, attached is the picture of their son. Ash is three months old in the picture, but now is five months old, with a dark mop of hair and grey eyes. He would undoubtedly look like Gale in the future.

He's delightful, very unlike his father. Well, unlike the Gale I knew before, when we both were in Twelve. Before our lives changed.

Gale's different now, and it seems to me this man is nowhere close to the man I knew. He's smiling a lot, a lot of those because of Ash and Kate. Never crossed my mind. But as our fierce friend once said, "Love is weird."

Ash absolutely adores his father, and of course, Peeta. The two prominent males in my life pass the poor kid back and forth, the small bundle of energy chuckling and squealing the whole time. Kate and I are left watching our husbands play with Ash, together with Gale's siblings.

Though Peeta had endured the very same pain I had, I can see it in his eyes that he still wants kids. We laugh, yes, together, but with Ash, his laughter sounds longer, much livelier. More sincere, even. His smiles reach his eyes when we're together, but Peeta with Ash looks like his face is going to split in two.

I feel bad for still feeling scared, for still being unsure. I'm the one who convinced Peeta that things change but I'm the one who's not ready. I thought I was, two years ago maybe I was but I'm nowhere near ready to risk conceiving another child. Not yet. What if I fail again? What if another part of me and Peeta dies again? I can't risk that.

No. I know I _can_. I can risk it.

I just don't want to.

But Peeta…

I want him to be as happy as he is right now, I want our child to be the one he's playing with. Our child who's making him laugh and smile and chuckle. Happy. I just want him to be happy. I want _us_ to be happy. But the pain. I don't think I can deal with another ended life without losing my grip on reality. I'll go crazy. I've had too many losses in my life. I can't lose anyone else…

"Katniss? Are you alright?" Kate asks out of nowhere. Though given my reaction, which is jumping to the sound of her voice, obviously out of it, her question doesn't seem so out of the blue.

"Uh, yeah." I huff. "Just thinking."

"Do you wanna go inside?" Kate asks. "We can have some tea."

I can only give her a nod, since that's the easiest thing to do. She takes me by the hand and leads me inside, leaving the three playing on the front porch. We pass the living room and one of the spare rooms, my feet dragging all the way. We get to the kitchen and I sit on one of the stools, burying my face in my palms and squeezing my eyes shut. I hear Kate put a kettle on.

My mind drifts back to continue the train of thought I had moments ago.

Peeta would have recovered faster than me, of course. It's obvious. Unlike me, who always needs someone or something to keep me going, he doesn't need anyone else to look to.

He is hope itself.

A cup is pushed to my direction, the steam from it feels refreshing. Especially in this chilly autumn air. I turn to Kate and manage a small smile for her, "Thanks."

"Are you okay, Katniss? You seem…off."

I take a deep breath and slowly release it. Kate seems like someone I can confide in, I feel like I can tell her anything. Which in my case is a rare thing. The only other person who makes me feel like that is Peeta. Maybe she and Gale are really made for each other.

So I tell her about what's bothering me, the failed pregnancy, Peeta, the pressure I feel. Kate listens, really listens, and I appreciate her more for that. She's not one of those people who only pretend to.

My mouth feels dry when I finish so I take a sip of the tea. The warmth of it helping ease my nerves a bit.

"Peeta wouldn't push you. He doesn't seem like he's that kind of person," she tells me gently, laying her hand on top of mine. Her touch makes me inhale sharply, me being new to this whole friend thing. I relax though.

"I know he won't, but that's what scares me, too. What if I never find myself ready again? If he doesn't push me, I might not agree to it again. I don't know," I say. "I just… I don't want him to leave me."

"He won't. He loves you, Katniss. And you love him, right?"

I nod.

"Then it'll be okay," she whispers to me like it's a secret. A moment of silence passes between us, then she speaks again, "I got really angry when I learned about what happened to you guys. I mean, I'm no stranger to what you've been through and I saw, first hand, that you really love each other. It's obvious it's not an act anymore. You deserve everything!" she exclaims, looking somewhat hopeless. "When the news got to us, I gave Gale the silent treatment for two whole days though it wasn't his fault!"

That makes me laugh. Yes, Kate is good for Gale. She's his Peeta.

"He was really confused when I talked to him again. Said he was scared he did something wrong."

"Well, leave it to us to expect the worst. We're experts on that."

"It's just because of the circumstances, Katniss. I know you weren't like that before shit happened." Her cursing surprises me because on the outside, she looks really gentle.

"How'd you know?"

"No one's born a pessimist, you know."

"Yeah, I guess that's true." I say. The door opens and the guys barge into the house. They're all smiling, and it just hits me again how much have changed. I've always separated Peeta and Gale in my thoughts in the past, I get really uneasy whenever the two of them find themselves in the same sentence, but looking at them now, having just spent some time with each other…

If you asked the sixteen year old me if there is a possibility of Peeta and Gale ever being friends in the future, I would have given you a solid no.

"How are the ladies?" Gale asks, which surprises me again because not once did Gale refer to me as a lady. He's standing behind her, and Kate kisses him quickly, taking a giggling Ash into her arms.

I feel Peeta move behind me, too, snaking his arms around my waist, pressing a kiss against the side of my head. I lean into him, letting myself relax and pushing my worries to the back of my mind where they can't bother me.

Just right then, the oven beeps, signaling the end of the turkey's fiery torture.

"I'll get it," Gale says. The rest of us move and transfer to the dining area, where the table's already set.

Dinner is lovely, the turkey perfectly roasted. Ash feasts on the potatoes his mother patiently mashed. Gale and Peeta have a conversation going, touching every possible subject. Kate is busy attending to her son, and I'm content with watching them.

Days pass, Gale and Peeta growing closer, Ash serving as their mediator. It's nice that they're getting along better now. Kate helps in sorting out my emotions and thoughts.

I don't play with Ash much, because I know I can't handle it. Lily always springs to my mind, and I know, I _know_ I'll break down if I carry him in my arms. It would be too familiar, the feeling of his smooth skin on my scarred, his mop of hair against my face… It would all be too familiar.

On our last day though, we're on their front porch again, Ash is in Peeta's arms, playing with the blond curls that hang from Peeta's forehead. He is brushing his tiny hand right and left. This continued for minutes, but I guess Ash got so delighted he whipped his tiny fist back then forward with a little too much force and hit Peeta square on his nose.

Instinctively, I rise to my feet in a rush, but I hear Peeta chuckle and I calm down. Peeta sees me, standing awkwardly in front of my chair. He smiles, then stands from their spot and sits beside me.

"Do you wanna hold him?" he asks. Ash is now back to playing with Peeta's bangs. I want to decline his offer, but he's looking at me too intently. If I decline, he'll know something's bothering me. His preoccupancy with strengthening his friendship with Gale and starting a new one with his nephew has helped me hide it from him.

Or he already knows something's up with me, that's why he wants me to hold Ash. Exposure therapy suddenly comes to my mind, but I shake it out of my head. I'm not afraid of children.

Or am I…?

No. I'm not.

I realize that I have no other choice, so I take the baby from him and into my arms. He feels so soft, and for someone so young, he's heavy. He eyes me for a moment, his lips slightly parted, so I give him a tight smile.

The blob of skin in front of me smiles right back and _squeals_. Then his hands are on my face, on my cheeks, squishing me, no doubt effectively distorting my face. Judging by Peeta's laugh, I look awful.

"He likes you," Peeta says.

In the distance, we see Gale and Kate walking back with a bag of groceries each. They went to fetch some stuff half an hour ago. Ash's small hands are still messing up my facial features. I guess this isn't pretty bad.

I sit him on my lap and bop him on the nose using my index finger. For a second he looks utterly horrified, both his grey irises focused on my finger, then they dart to my face, and then he squeals so loud I almost let go of him to cover my ears. He's laughing, his whole chest shaking from joy.

"Babies can laugh, Katniss," I hear Peeta say. I probably looked surprised, not because he's _laughing_, but because _I made him laugh. _I didn't think I had it in me, to make a baby laugh. This brings a smile to my lips. Gale and Kate arrive finally, and I'm just ready to hand him back to his mom but I'm asked to hold him for a while longer so they can take care of the groceries.

Okay, then.

I see Ash yawn, so I bring him close to me. Almost automatically, he leans his cute head on my shoulder and wraps his tiny arms around my neck.

_Calm down, Katniss. It's just Ash._

In seconds I can already feel his steady breathing on my neck. I stand and sway him side by side, my movement doing a great job hiding my unsteadiness. The two of us cast a long shadow on the wooden planks underneath us, so I turn around. As I expected, the sun's coming down from its high pedestal. Peeta notices my actions and he turns, too, standing beside me. I feel his hand pull me close to his side, our shadows mimicking our actions.

The silhouette displayed in front of me is… unsettling. This is how we would have looked like every day at home if that awful day never happened. Me and Peeta no longer just husband and wife, we would have been a mother and a father, a child holding our family closer.

I would have had my own family.

The sun finishes its descent and we're left staring at a wide expanse of dark sky dotted by a million stars, all of them gleaming, twinkling to the beat of each of their own drummers.

After a while it gets easier, kind of feels natural even, but just as I'm getting comfortable carrying Ash, his parents come out of the house, already changed their clothes. Gale's wearing a tight black shirt underneath his fatigue green jacket. He has on a pair of light brown pants tucked in his boots. Kate's wearing a faded floral dress with a blazer on top. She sees me swaying Ash, and gives me a smile that is too similar to the ones Dr. Aurelius once gave me when I told her about the lessening amount of bad days I have. Like I made progress.

Carefully, I hand Ash to Kate. I don't like feeling like a patient being treated. I'm over that phase.

I need to prove that to Peeta though. I need to make him see I'm stable, that I can be okay again. That I can go back to being that Katniss who only lost a sister, a father, and a lot of friends. Never a daughter.

So I keep trying, for him, I'm going to try. Again.

The good days in District Two brought by Ash are over, and we're back to fending off our demons. When I wake, our positions are reversed. Instead of Peeta holding me, I have his head tucked underneath my chin, his hair soft against my skin.

I must have slept so well if I can't remember squeezing my arm beneath Peeta's head and pulling him to my chest. Wait. Oh. I did sleep well, Peeta didn't. 

_"No!"_

_I jolt awake at the sound of Peeta's voice. This is bad. Peeta never shouts in his nightmares. That's my thing, not his. With my body acting all on its own, I twist around, regardless of how tight his grip on my waist is, and shake him awake. I don't need to think when it comes to Peeta, I know what to do. "Hey, hey. Wake up, Peeta, wake up."_

_He comes to with a sharp intake of breath, his face shiny from sweat and tears. "Katniss?" he asks frantically._

_"It's okay, I'm here. Shhh, I'm here. Calm down, Peeta. You're okay."_

_Despite my words, his breaths still come in short and unsteady. Silent tears fall from his eyes, he looks so lost. His eyes won't stop darting everywhere. I use my hands to cup his face and wipe the tears on it. "You're okay. It was just a dream. Not real," I assure him. "Not real."_

_He shakes his head. "It's real. My family's dead. I watched them burn."_

_With that being said, I know Peeta would be inconsolable tonight._

_A sigh escapes my parted lips, "Come here," I say. "Let me hold you."_

_He obeys, too weak to object. Once he had a nightmare too and when I offered, he declined. He said he wanted to hold me, not be held by me._

_He lays his head on one of my forearms and I pull him closer, knowing he will need every gesture of comfort possible. I've had nightmares like that before, even years back after my father died. I watched him get blown to bits and had to pick up his pieces almost every night._

_I know how it feels, to watch someone you love suffer and die before your eyes and not be able to do anything. It feels like being split into two without losing consciousness or dying._

_It hurts that much._

_On those nights, it takes him hours to calm me down. Inside my head, I can only see them dying in whatever way I dreamt—burned, decapitated, blasted, chopped—nothing else. Nothing else registers, just crippling pain._

_I rack my brain for something, literally anything I can say to relieve Peeta of his suffering. I can't tell him it's okay, it's fine, it's not real. None of those would work tonight because this one's different._

Think, Katniss, what can you do? He's in pain, so much pain…

_Suddenly, I remember the conversation we had months ago in the woods, when he told me about him being suicidal. _"I'll tell myself, 'I'm not going to die today because I have to hear Katniss Everdeen sing again.'"

_Sing. Something I haven't done since those awful days in the Capitol, when I wanted to off myself, too. I don't sing as much as possible, the very action too attached to the memory of my father. And Rue. And Prim._

_All of them dead._

_I push those thoughts out of my mind, those shouldn't matter. Peeta needs me now. So I brace myself and sing for him._

Deep in the meadow, under the willow  
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow  
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes  
And when again they open, the sun will rise.

Here it's safe, here it's warm  
Here the daisies guard you from every harm  
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true  
Here is the place where I love you.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away  
A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray  
Forget your woes and let your troubles lay  
And when again it's morning, they'll wash away.

Here it's safe and here it's warm  
And here the daisies guard you from every harm  
And here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true  
Here is the place where I love you.

_I was so focused on stopping myself from breaking down that I didn't notice Peeta relaxing in my arms. And tears streaming down my face. His breathing is almost back to normal. My fingers are absentmindedly stroking the hairs at the base of his neck, and after a few seconds I realize that I'm still humming the tune._

_"I love you," I whisper, grateful that Peeta's alive and breathing and is with me. My lips brush the top of his head, a gentle kiss for him. He does this often._

_"Thank you," Peeta whispers, his breath tickling my throat._

_"Go to sleep," I whisper back. "I'll be here when you wake up."_

_"Promise?"_

_"I promise."_

* * *

Three years pass, Peeta and I have been married ten years, we've gotten over our period of shared chastity, but I just can't stop taking the pill. Every morning I see my reflection staring back at me in the mirror, looking determined. But as the day goes by, that determination fades and I'm left with nothing.

Some nights, when I'm certain Peeta's already asleep, I cry for myself. I really, really want to try _again_ but I just can't help it. No matter how hard I convince myself, the coward in me still gets the better part of myself.

I want to stop being scared. I want to be brave again. I want to live.

Then one morning, a letter arrives from the Hawthornes with a message they've sent us before.

They're having another baby.

* * *

**A/N: I know they might seem a bit OOC but I really just think that love brings out the best in people. Like, say for example, our very own Katniss who swore she'll never love, marry or have kids. Yet look at what happened. All of that because of love. And really, as much as possible, I don't want her to lose anybody else so I made her keep her friendship with Gale. See, I'm not entirely heartless.  
Preview quote from chapter nine:** **"Peeta!"  
(I know it's not much, but it's worth the wait. I hope it is)**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I think you'll like this one.  
**

* * *

Will. That's his name. Will Hawthorne. Both his parents have dark hair so it's no surprise he has dark hair too, but instead of solid grey, his eyes are tinted with shades of brown swirling from the edges of his irises. A mix of Kate's and Gale's. It's beautiful.

Ash is now four years old and completely adores his baby brother. Will is hopeless, he's so fascinated by Ash. It's delighting to watch them play, Will repeatedly hitting his brother's head with his tiny fists and Ash being so patient and tolerant. He doesn't care if it hurts, what matters to him is that Will is smiling and laughing because of him. They're beautiful.

I try to be a good aunt to them, and it seems to be working. Ash is all smiles at me, Will, too. I play with them more than I did the last time we were here, which isn't much, but it does the trick. With Ash, most of the time we play tag. He is a fast kid, running around and trying to catch him feels like chasing a wild dog in pursuit of his prey. I still catch him, and when he's It, I don't have to slow my pace down for him. Like I said, he's fast.

With Will though, I don't have to play with him alone. Ash is always there beside me, helping me play with his brother. He hands me all these toys, tells me which ones Will likes best and hates most. His being there makes it easier.

On more than one occasion, I see the three of them—Gale, Kate, and Peeta—watching me with small smiles on their lips. My usual response is scowling and rolling my eyes. Ash must have caught me doing that because after a few days, when his mom orders him to take his nap, he scowls and rolls his eyes.

I had to talk to him regarding that.

Once he's in his room, all four of us adults laugh out loud.

"You're his favorite aunt, Katniss," Gale says.

"Well… I only have three nephews, so it would be unfair to tell him he's my favorite."

They all laugh at that.

Days are for the kids, nights are for the adults. Once the brothers are tucked into bed, we hang out at the front porch to do some catching up. Gale's still the head of the squad here in Two, but given the peace we're experiencing, he's not up to much. Just training the recruits and attending meetings. Gale is paid well and they don't need a lot of money so Kate only drops by the hospital to help. More like volunteering than working.

Peeta and Gale are close friends, same goes for me and Kate. All of this makes me happy.

We spend about two more days there, and on our last day, Ash holds my hand throughout the whole trip to the station. When we're about to board the train, Ash's grip on my hand tightens.

I crouch down so I'm eye to eye with him. His eyes are gleaming from tears that haven't flowed yet. "Hey."

"I don't want you to go," he tells me softly.

"Me neither, but we have to."

"You'll come back, right? Promise me you'll visit again?"

My eyes start to well with tears, too. "I promise, Ash. We'll come back. As soon as Uncle Peeta and I can."

"Okay," he whispers, then kisses me on the cheek. "Then we'll play tag and maybe Will can join us, too."

"Yeah, we'll include him, too." I kiss the top of his head and hug him, our visit here has made me grown to love him. He's a wonderful kid.

We bid our goodbyes and board the train heading home. Peeta and I look out the window and continuing waving at them. The train horn sounds, then we're moving.

A day later, we arrive. The whole trip back home I'm anxious. Things didn't really go well the last time we were from Two. This time though, they do. Nothing bad has happened. Second time's really the charm.

A second time… surely history can't repeat itself that fast? Our visit to Two went really well, I've even grown close to Ash and Will, so much that I had tears in my eyes when we left.

I know I'll miss them, their voices, laughs, and everything. I'll miss getting to play with children, their silly stories and theories, questions. I'll miss them so much.

_Am I ready?_ I ask myself this over and over, the moment I wake up to the last time I close my eyes for the day. Every day I ask myself this question, but I could not find the answer.

Peeta's optimistic, and patient. I asked him once if he is ready to try again, obviously he said yes, but he's willing to wait. He's always waiting on me, and I hate it. I appreciate him for being him, but he's just too nice for his own good. If you let people step on you, most of the time they will.

I'm not stepping on Peeta, am I? I can't be… I mean, I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm not inflicting any kind of pain on him. Am I? By being not ready, for being scared, for not giving him the children he has always wanted, am I hurting him?

I hope not. I never want to cause him pain.

* * *

Tomorrow's Peeta's birthday, so I'm heading out to town to get him something. I know I should put more effort into it instead of just buying him something, and I have. I made him something, but I'm scared it won't be enough. He deserves the best.

People greet me on the way and I return their smiles happily. Every stall and shop in town has its own forte, Peeta's bakery, of course the bread. Sae's canteen, the stews and soups. The Smiths, the flowers. So on and so forth.

I end up buying him a new shirt and some new paint brushes. The last time I saw him paint, most of his brushes' strands are falling off and sticking to the canvas. He told me it's fine because it adds texture. Yeah, right.

It still doesn't feel enough. Damn him for being so deserving of everything. If I had all the money I need, I would get him a new life, with no abusive moms and Games and half-decent wives. One where he won't have to bear the pain of losing a child. One where he's happy. Where he has his own kids.

"There you are," Peeta greets as soon as I step into the house. "A letter's waiting for you, it's from Gale."

"Gale? What does it say?"

"Didn't read it, it's only addressed to you."

"Whatever's mine is yours, too, Peeta."

He just shrugs and hands me a white envelope. Sure enough it's only my name written on it, and the sender's only Gale. "See for yourself."

"Okay." I take it and give him a brief kiss. "I'll be upstairs."

If this is as private as it looks, then I might as well just play along. The floorboards creak under my weight, who knows how long they've been there. I get to our room and lie down the bed fully, stretching my limbs, careful to slip my bag underneath the bed so Peeta can't see what I've gotten him for tomorrow.

Tearing off the top of the envelope, I pull out the white paper from the inside and start reading.

_Hey Catnip,_

_I don't know what I'm doing really, writing to you about this and all. But Peeta has mentioned what you two are going through. I know it's hard, especially for you, whom I've known for years and never really was a person who dealt with change very great. It's not my place entirely, to tell you this, but I will because I'm still your best friend aside from him and now that he's my friend, too, I feel responsible for the two of you. _

_You're still unsure, uncertain if you're ready or not. But you're not scared anymore. I know it, I know you, Katniss. You've changed yes, but I still know you. Peeta helped me. And judging by how much Ash loves you, I know you're ready. I saw it. We all did. You'd be a great mother, Katniss. You're gentler than you think you are. _

_I'm now a father, Catnip, of two wonderful children. Now this is my place to tell, this I've experienced, and I think you have, too. During your visit, you've had the chance to mingle with Ash and Will. I know we don't agree on everything, but this I think we will. It's worth it, Catnip. It's so worth it._

_Your (best) friend,_

_Gale Hawthorne_

Peeta finds me half an hour later with the letter on my chest, my eyes staring blankly at the white ceiling of our room. The bed dips underneath Peeta's weight and he hovers over me. "You okay?" he asks.

I let out the air I've been holding unconsciously, bringing my right hand up to caress his face. Gale's written words are still ringing in my ears. In fact, I can hear him saying that.

_It's worth it, Catnip. It's so worth it._

This is what I needed, one last push. Something that I never could have gotten from Peeta. He's too patient, too willing to wait up on me. Gale isn't. Patience is not one of his strong suits. I remember all those days in the woods we spent together, him spitting out the most inhumane things about our previous government. I believe he wanted to start a rebellion right then and there, grown tired of all the pushing around and stepping on the Capitol has been giving the districts for the last seventy four years.

So the next day, on the very first day of a new year for Peeta, I make it mine, too.

I stop taking the pill again after five years.

* * *

I know it's not supposed to immediately cease working, but after we've tried almost every day for two whole months and still getting the same result from the tests I take, it starts… I start feeling hopeless.

We make an appointment to Dr. Banks again, after a whole decade, and she hasn't aged a bit. The only sign of the years taking their toll on her is her greying hair.

She performs an ultrasound, the gel making my skin tingle. It's cold, the metal tip of the thing she uses only making my insides squirm further. After a few more minutes of her probing around, she clicks the machine off and hands me a roll of tissue paper. I use it to dry my stomach as she sits at her table.

"Nothing's wrong actually, you're still fertile, I don't really understand why. You're still young. The two of you. And my most reasonable guess is probably because your body knows it's not ready yet."

"But I am," I counter. "I know I am."

"The mind and the body don't always agree. It could also be due to the trauma you've experienced, the period of depression you've underwent, and your body doesn't want to go through that again. But give it a few years, it will come eventually, don't lose hope."

Hope. One day. Eventually.

So I don't let myself worry much about it. I'm still capable. That should be enough. Just to make sure, we got Peeta checked, too, and got told nothing's wrong either. We just have to wait.

And wait we do. Neither do we stop trying.

Years pass, we've visited the Hawthornes in Two four times already, our first Two when Ash and Will were born. The other two, the promised visits to Ash. We've visited my mom, Annie and Finn in Four thrice now, the first time for our first anniversary, the second for our eleventh, and the third for our fifteenth.

I'm pretty sure she was conceived that last night in Four because I started throwing up the day right after.

Yes, the Day had come. As we were promised.

Peeta got suspicious that very first day of my morning sickness, because who wouldn't? I literally ran for the toilet within two minutes of waking up. Peeta had followed me shortly after, keeping my hair out of my face while I flushed my system of our dinner the night before.

He was silent throughout my… rather disgusting moment, and stayed that way even when I'm already cleaning up. I asked him if anything was wrong, and when I looked into his eyes, I knew what he was thinking. So that afternoon we got tests from town and I took it.

All three of them read positive.

I remember the two of us screaming in joy after we've gotten over the shock that came with the news of me being pregnant again. It was the most emotionally conflicting five minutes of my life. Try imagining alternating waves of happiness and nervousness, an emotion only having a few seconds to register before the other one takes over.

We hugged for a very long time, tears falling from both our eyes. We're too happy and scared. But happy.

This second time, this second chance that's given to us, we're ten times more careful. So careful that I withhold my hunting completely. I won't tire myself, I won't risk it, not until our baby is born.

I first feel her move inside me on my sixth month, a whole month later than when Lily started moving. My reaction was pretty much the same, the only difference now is that I know what I'm feeling. She moves a lot, some nights I can't sleep because of her. Peeta has asked me to wake him on those nights, just so we can feel her kick together. Usually she stops at around midnight.

It's another girl.

When we get to the eighth month, we almost throw a party in relief. We've passed the seven month mark. And according to the last check-up, things are going really well. This is all that we need to hear before Peeta starts working on the baby room. He paints it white, then later is magically transformed to a field of wildflowers. A crib is assembled and is placed in the middle of the room, on top of it is a flock of colorful birds hanging from pieces of wood—a gift from our friends in Four. The Hawthornes has sent gifts too, some baby blankets Kate has knitted and a plush toy from Ash and Will. Our friends in the Capitol gave us some weird-looking shiny baby clothes, and I doubt our baby would ever wear that. We tell them thank you though.

The whole last month of carrying her in my womb I spend wondering what she'll look like, also worrying about being inadequate. I can't help it. The world has done so many things to me that I can't just _not _think of the worst.

The first day of spring comes, and I'm in my ninth month, and she's due any day now, the contractions getting more and more painful every day. My back hurts a lot, too, so I spend most of my time sitting down. Today, on this very first day of spring, where the new leaves are just starting to sprout out from the old branches, I sit by the window and feel the breeze, the wind carrying bits of melodies from the mockingjays outside. My eyes catch a very bright yellow in the middle of green in the middle of our lawn. And as soon as my brain deduces what it is, the first dandelion of the year, I feel a contraction start. A very different contraction, and it scares me, because this feels final.

"Peeta!"

"What? What is it?" he asks, running from the backyard, his eyes wide, nervousness etched on his face.

"I think… I think—" I don't get to finish because Peeta has helped me to my feet, and though I have a full grown baby inside me, he still is able to lift me up in his arms like I weigh no more than a sack of flour.

We get to the hospital, and it hurts so much. Peeta does all the talking, and after just a few seconds, I'm already being lowered down on a bed. Peeta's sweating so hard, but his grip on my hand feels so steady. I squeeze back just as hard as I'm led into a room. I can't get a good look around because of my position. I'm changed into a hospital gown, Peeta helping the nurses lift me. He's the only one strong enough, and the only one I'm comfortable with touching me.

I hear the door open and some footsteps. Another wave of complete pain washes over me, and it hurts so much I start to cry.

"It's okay, Katniss. I'm here. Just breathe," Peeta says.

"Hello, Katniss," Dr. Banks greets with a smile on her face. "Peeta." She nods to him. "Just hang in there, alright? It's going to hurt for a long while, but you can do this."

I can only manage a nod.

"Oh, and listen to your husband. Breathe. It helps."

* * *

After half a day worth of excruciating pain, I finally hear my daughter's cries. My whole body goes limp, I can feel my muscles sag from exhaustion. A nurse has wrapped our daughter in a piece of cloth and is approaching me—us. I look to Peeta to see his face, his reaction, and that's all I need to know that the pain was worth it.

The nurse hands her to me, and her cries gradually come to a halt. She's going to have my hair, and lips, and Peeta's nose. We're not sure about her eyes yet.

This is our daughter, cradled in soft cloth, in my arms. Alive and breathing. Not gone, but here, with us. This realization only brings tears to my eyes, but unlike the ones I've previously shed, these tears are of joy.

A laugh escapes me, and I kiss the top of her head. "I love you," I whisper to her. That's what my first words to her are.

"What should we name her?" Peeta asks, and I can hear it in his voice that he has longed to ask this question for years.

I turn my attention back to her and take her in. She's so small, but she sure felt heavy inside me. It's hard to believe that this sleeping girl I'm holding is the very same baby that kept me up until midnight with her kicks. Like I've noticed before, her hair is going to be dark like mine. Suddenly I'm back to my 8th grade biology class, flipping through my hand-me-down book, my attention on the teacher completely stolen by a small dark-feathered bird perched on a tree branch. The bird looks gentle, but also looks like it would not go down without a fight.

Yes, it suits her.

"Maya," I tell him.

He smiles, then kisses me, and then our baby, "Maya."

* * *

**A/N: Here she is! Our first toast baby! What do you think about her name? I got it from Tabitha Suzuma's Forbidden, a book I love so much. ****Just three more chapters to go! Here's something from Maya in the next chapter: "Wuv you."  
God she's so cute. Thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Helloooo. Long time, no update. I did a bit of tweaking to the last few chapters. They're going to be like compilations of one shots and drabbles, pieces of scenes in the lives of our favorite characters. A bit different from how I used to write, or maybe not. Just shorter. I hope you still like it though.**

**And can I just say whoa? Because _Always_ is near 20,000 views! That's already a huge thing to me. Though it's weird 'cause it's not being faved and reviewed and stuff but who cares, right? People are reading it! And this story, _Real_, is near 4,000 views! Which is just as awesome. Anyway here you go! Hope you love Maya as much as I do.  
**

* * *

Our daughter now has Peeta's full attention, sometimes I think he's forgotten that I'm here, too. It's a great thing I love Maya as much as he does. Maybe even more, but I doubt it. It's clear that with Maya in our lives, Peeta couldn't ask for anything else.

He carries her more than I do, Maya only finding herself in my arms when I have to feed her. It's…weird, because I was a thin kid, therefore my breasts weren't really, you know, big. Every time I see myself in the mirror, I can't help but scowl.

It takes some getting used to, to everything, I mean, but with your husband telling you again and again that you look great and you see it in his eyes that he means it, when he's always there to help you in everything—from changing the diapers up to feeding our baby—it's bearable. Like always, everything is bearable because of Peeta. We can do this. Together.

After I'm cleared to go around and move again—which is two months, though according to Dr. Banks it's okay to move around after only a month and a half, but Peeta insisted—I head straight to the woods. It's a part of me, the woods would always be a part of me. Nobody can take this away, not permanently.

I didn't even realize that this new phase of my life, of being a mother, is tiring until I stepped into the tree line. The smell of leaves and dew and mud and everything feels so rejuvenating. That first day, I spent four hours in the woods just breathing it all back in and took home a large turkey. We feasted on that—we being our little family, including Haymitch, Sae and Mia.

As soon as I'm certain Maya can handle being outside, I take Peeta and her with me, and we hang around the lake for our very first outdoor trip as a family. Maya is restless, her energy seems to have no limit, during the whole trip to the lake she's babbling and cooing at everything, clearly delighted by the new things she's seeing. Somehow it reminds me of when I took his father here the first time, how he was also overwhelmed by everything. Well, at least I know she's really ours.

She got Peeta's eyes, literally and figuratively, but hers is a shade darker, probably influenced by mine. Actually, she is Peeta in a female baby form, only with dark hair. Her smiles come easily, like when she's playing with her dad and she sees me watching them, she'll give me an adorable toothless smile. Usually followed by a bang on Peeta's head. Cute.

She has my temper though. One time when Peeta and I couldn't find the thing she was looking for, because how can we really know when she hasn't even started talking yet? Long story short, we had to deal with a very angry crying baby in the middle of the night, our sweat making our night clothes stick to our bodies like there's no tomorrow.

Still, Maya is wonderful, and I have no idea why I ever thought I didn't want kids. Looking back on it, maybe I never really despised the idea of having kids. It's just that I don't want them to suffer what I had—losing a father, getting reaped, being thrown into the Games and all that.

We fought for this, for a better world, and we've gotten what we wanted. A place where our children would be safe, no death sentences looming over their heads. I'm glad I did what I did to get here.

* * *

A few hours ago, the sun was shining pretty bright, no sign of rain evident in the sky. But then all of a sudden, rain is pouring down on me, drenching my clothes. I quickly pack up, stuffing the rabbit in my leather bag and tucking the bow under my jacket to keep it from getting wet. I quickly run home, careful not to slip. The last thing I need is a broken back or a sprained ankle.

I get to the Village, but I don't see any light coming from the inside of our house. They must still be asleep then, especially with the sky that was once a light shade of blue and has now turned dark. It's the perfect day for sleeping in.

I get inside and change into something comfortable, just a thin shirt and some pants. I throw on a loose knitted sweater at the last second, just to keep warm if ever it gets cold. I step out the bathroom to see Peeta rubbing his eyes using his palms. Even in this weather, with the heavens pouring down on us, the cold breeze doesn't bother him. His being shirtless is enough proof.

"'morning."

"Good morning," I greet back and climb onto his lap. "Aren't you cold?"

"Nah, I've spent years holed up with ovens spewing hot air at my face. The cold doesn't mind me." He kisses me, his lips warm against mine. "But, Maya might."

Together we make our way to her room, the spare room next to ours, only to find her already awake and is staring fascinatedly at the wooden birds above her. The sound of the door opening steals her attention and she sees us, her greeting a smile.

"Hey there, cupcake," Peeta says.

"Cupcake?" I ask jokingly. "Oh, I am so glad I didn't let you name her."

"Oh, shut up," he laughs. I pick Maya up and kiss her nose.

Downstairs, I leave Peeta in the kitchen and get a fire going. I sit on the floor and let go of Maya for her to play. Our formerly bare living room is now half-covered in stuffed animals. All of them from our friends. If you look right, you'd be greeted by a pink horse and a couple of birds. Johanna even gave her a stuffed tree. However weird that looks and sounds.

She crawls to her favorite, a brown stuffed bear she calls "bee" which we usually keep on our couch. She tries to reach him, extending her tiny arm up but coming up short. She sits, huffing to herself, making me smile. In a lot of ways, she's like an adult. Scoffing and huffing and nodding at the right times.

I watch as she places both her palms flat on the edge of the couch, adjusting her feet so she's kneeling, then slowly pulls herself up to a standing position. She balances herself on her feet, leaning her weight on the side of the couch, as she reaches for the stuffed animal.

"Peeta!" I yell. "Look at this!"

"Look at what?" he asks, walking over to us. He sees Maya hugging the bear to her chest, burying her face in the bear's neck. I have my hands hovering beside her to catch her if she loses her balance. "Oh my God," he says. "Oh my God, my daughter's standing. My daughter's standing in our living room with my wife beside her. Oh my God."

I laugh at Peeta's disbelief. I laugh, too, because even I can't believe it. I have my daughter in front of me hugging her favorite stuffed toy and my husband by the doorway.

I have a husband and a daughter. Whom I love above everything and everyone else.

This is not the future I had in mind when I was younger.

* * *

From the very first moment Haymitch has laid his eyes on Maya, in that hospital room, I knew he would adore her. And I was not mistaken, almost every other week he visits us to play with her. I could be imagining things, but he smells less and less of alcohol as the days go by. Of course, this is Haymitch we're talking about, so he never really didn't _not _smell of alcohol.

At least he's sober when he visits.

Maya enjoys his company, her most favorite part of her grandpa is the blond scruff on his chin and neck. Never did a visit go by without her rubbing her palms on it. It tickles her, maybe, because she always giggles when she does that.

It's surprising, really. How Haymitch is with Maya. He's smiling, calling her nicknames, making faces at her. It's so different compared to the drunkard Panem knew for twenty five years. We definitely like this version of him better.

Maya takes her first full steps because of Haymitch. It's a given we can't help but feel jealous.

It happened one day, we're lounging around the living room in front of the hearth, Peeta and I snuggled on the couch, Haymitch playing with Maya on the floor. She's near our side of the room, leaning her weight on my left leg, her grandpa at the middle of the room. Haymitch has got her stuffed bear and is waving it at her.

"Come get it, sweetheart," he coaxes.

I feel Maya stand straighter, her weight on my leg slowly diminishing. In a span of a few seconds, she's all balanced on her own legs, giggles escaping her lips. I sit straight, wanting to watch this closely. "Go on, Maya. Go get your bear from grandpa."

"Go get it," Peeta whispers to her.

Like she's been doing even months before, she nods, as if understanding, then moves her right leg forward. She tests it, and then quickly finishes the rest of her journey, tackling the bear and landing on Haymitch's lap, laughing.

"Oh my God, she's walking." I hear Peeta say. Here we go again. "Did you see that, Katniss? Our daughter just took her first steps!"

His excitement brings out a laugh from me.

"Easy, boy. A day will come you'll wish she never learned how." Haymitch says. "With this amount of energy, you'd be chasing her soon."

* * *

On her first birthday, Peeta bakes her a small cake that we share. It's just us, our little family, Peeta and I, Maya, and the only grandfather she'll ever know, Haymitch, but it's enough. It's enough because it's real.

As soon as Haymitch lights the candle, her giggling stops, all of her attention on Peeta suddenly directed to the small flame. It's flickering, dancing, and Maya's eyes are taking it all in.

"Happy birthday, Maya," I whisper.

Then she starts her monologue in gibberish baby talk, the only words we understood was "Mama" and "Papa." I think I heard "Ummitch," too.

She's talkative.

"We love you," Peeta says, giving her a kiss on her cheek, shifting her on his lap. "We love you so much."

It's like she understood what Peeta said because she smiles, then lets out a small laugh. "Wuv you," she says.

My eyes bug out at her voice. "Did you hear that?" I ask.

Peeta looks as surprised as I am. "Yeah," he laughs softly. "Can you say that again, huh, Maya?"

"Wuv you," she giggles. Our laughter soon join hers. This is wonderful, a different kind of high I never thought I craved. I understand now why Peeta wanted this so much, why even though my mom and dad had lived in that world we left, they risked it, they risked us—Prim and I. I understand why Gale wrote that letter to me, why it's worth it. I understand now.

* * *

As the months go by, Maya picks up more and more words. Things like "milk," which sounds like "meek," and "bird," which in her own language sounds like "bod."

She's still having difficulty pronouncing words but it shocked me and Peeta when she said "fuck." All four letters of it.

"Where'd she get that?" I ask rhetorically, glaring at Peeta. I know it came from him. It's obvious, he has Maya cooped up in his arms even when he's baking, and sometimes the bread doesn't turn out like what he had in mind. Hence, the swearing. It's not from Haymitch, I'm certain, I'm always there when he visits and I've never heard him swear in Maya's presence.

"Fuck," Maya says again, cutting off my period of glaring.

"Maya, don't say that. It's bad."

"Bad?" she asks me.

"Yes, it is bad." Peeta tells her, which only makes me roll my eyes.

She looks at Peeta, then me, then back to Peeta, like she's weighing options. I don't think she's aware she's pouting her lips, which makes her look ten times cuter. It's hard to stay mad when you have a daughter like her.

"Bad?" she asks again.

"Bad," both Peeta and I repeat, nodding our heads.

Then she nods, like she's just agreed to a deal, looking all mature with her lips pressed together in a thin line. "'kay. Wuv you."

We both smile at that. "We love you, too."

* * *

One morning, after a hunting trip I cut short because of the sun, I arrive home to see Peeta and Maya in the middle of what seems like an argument. Peeta has her sitting on our kitchen counter, her arms crossed, staring her father down. Peeta has a spoonful of food hovering in front of our daughter.

"Maya," Peeta whispers. "Eat your food. Come on."

She shakes her head.

"Please?"

Still no response from her.

"What do we have here?" I ask, catching their attention. I drop my game bag by the door and walk over to them.

"She won't eat her food," Peeta groans. "We've been sitting here for half an hour."

"Let me try," I offer. After washing my hands, Peeta hands me the spoon and the bowl, moving to the side. He sits beside us, crossing his good leg over his prosthetic. Sitting on Peeta's previous spot, I greet her. "Hey, there Maya."

"Mama!"

"Yes, it's me! Now come on, eat your breakfast." I bring the spoon near her lips and she eats it right away. I hear Peeta make a sound that's like a cross between a yelp and a sigh.

She swallows the mush and readily eats the next spoonful. In minutes, she's eaten everything and smacks her lips for good measure. "There we go," I say, setting the bowl and the spoon down. I carry her and face her scowling father.

A smirk crawls its way onto my lips, and he huffs in mock exasperation. I stick my tongue out at him, teasing him, just for the sake of hearing his chuckle. "You know, the whole time I was trying to make her eat, the only thing I can think of is how wrong you are. She is nothing like me, Katniss, as you have said countless of times before," he says. "She's a mini version of you! I'm certain. In the whole thirty four years of my life, never have I met anyone more stubborn than you and her."

"Oh, but you love me."

He sighs, "Unfortunately, yes. I do love you."

"And we love you, too," I tell him, speaking on Maya's behalf. "Come on, let's clean you up."

I take Peeta's hand and lead him upstairs and into our bathroom. I let him prepare a bath for Maya in her small plastic tub as I go back into our room to fetch her clothes. It's quite hot, so I settle on just a knee-length dress for her. When I get back inside the bathroom, she's already in her tub splashing the water around.

I sit beside Peeta and place the stack of clothes on the counter. He's already lathering her hair with the shampoo, and Maya's playing with the soapy foam from it. She takes a handful of it and starts putting on her chin. I laugh softly, "Who are you trying to be, honey?"

"Grandpa Haymitch."

This time I laugh out loud and I hear Peeta, too. We spend at least half an hour playing with her, drawing things on our arms and hers. By the end of her bath, she's covered in foam flowers. And Haymitch's beard.

* * *

The parenting life is blissful for the both of us, and as it turns out, I'm not such a bad mother like I feared. Peeta's even a greater father than I had first imagined. Every night before we sleep, we lie on our backs or on our sides facing each other, and we just tell stories. Even if we were there when it happened.

It just feels nice, recounting all the good things that has happened. We've learned to not take these moments for granted, because we know we cannot stop time. Things that are meant to be will happen. Good or bad. The only thing we could do is enjoy the positive moments and no, not forget the bad, but reflect on them. For they are more often than not, those that teach us the best lessons.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts? Am I cool enough to have written one of your favorite stories? Nah? That's okay. Thanks for reading! Yes, you. Thank you so much.  
Preview quote from chapter eleven: "You two are lucky. And I'm happy for you."**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hi! Sorry for not updating regularly like I first promised. I really just want for this story to turn out right. Thanks for reviewing and everything! Especially those who added this to their favorite stories even when it's not yet finished! Thank you! And to those who followed! Anyway, here you go. Hope you still like it.  
**

* * *

At two years, Maya can speak in complete sentences, obvious that she got her skill with words from her father. It's starting to become a problem because she's a curious kid, always asking questions. Some of them we can't even give her the real answers yet.

Like that one night, she's sitting on my lap, I'm drinking some water. We're on one of the stools in the kitchen, waiting for Peeta to finish up the dinner, when she asks us where babies come from. Classic, I know.

I almost spit a mouthful out. "What—why did you ask, honey?"

"I saw a new baby in town earlier, when we got things from the market. Where do they come from?"

I'm speechless, what do I tell her? I'm piecing up some elaborate lie in my head to tell her when I catch Peeta staring at us, wide-eyed, with the spatula in his hand. "Help," I mouth to him.

He drains the pasta and puts it on a plate before he speaks. "Babies are delivered to parents by the storks. It's a special kind of bird." _Ah, yes. The stork story._

"What if you don't want a baby but one is given to you?" she asks, pouting her lips.

"Well, that doesn't happen. The storks won't deliver a baby unless the parents write a letter to Mr. Stork asking for one," he lies smoothly.

"Oh," she simply says. "So the parents of the baby I saw earlier wrote a letter to Mr. Stork and asked for a baby?"

"Yeah," Peeta says, taking his seat in front of us. Ever since Maya was born, we started eating on the counter because it's easier than eating at the table. The chairs are just too low for her, even when she's on my lap.

Thankfully, she drops the subject. "Okay. That looks yummy, Papa. Can I have some?" I sigh, at least we're safe for now.

She's also developed this habit of climbing out of her bed in the morning when she wakes and squeezing herself between me and Peeta. We leave the door open at night now, because that first morning of her habit, we woke to the sound of her cries from the hallway.

This is not something we fully appreciate, I have to admit, yeah, it's nice of her to want to sleep with us, but it makes it harder for Peeta and me to…do our thing. We tried to just do it at night but we both were so exhausted, neither of us got dressed and remembered to open the door so Maya can snuggle in the following morning.

Instead of crying, like she once did, she gave us the silent treatment for two days. So, really, it's either we'll do it and bother dressing up decently and leaving the door open or we don't do it at all.

The latter's easier. Unfortunately.

But I _miss_ him. During my pregnancy, we weren't sexually active then because it's too risky, then after child birth, I had to rest. The months afterward, most of our time were allotted for taking care of Maya. We did see a window, when she's old enough to be left alone for a while but still young enough to not go around wandering the house. That only lasted for a short while, though.

The last time we did it was when she was a year old. We haven't done it since, and she would be turning three in two months.

That's a long time. And it's even harder when you're so used to your pillow being your handsome husband's chest, and he likes to sleep without his shirt on. When you sleep with him every night, but those nights are solely for sleeping. _Just imagine. _What's that expression they use? So close yet so far?

I'm desperate. So when I wake up without Maya between us, I bolt for the door and lock it. Peeta jolts awake from my sudden action, which is great.

"What's happening?" he asks sleepily. I climb on top of him and press my lips to his. He gasps in surprise, but kisses me back. He feels so warm.

"Katniss," he whispers. "What's—"

"I miss you."

He laughs, "I miss you, too."

I hear mockingjays passing tunes outside, and I can still hear them after, when we've cleaned up, dressed up and opened the door, waiting for our daughter to climb in.

* * *

It's about mid-March when Johanna comes to visit us, just to see Maya and for some catching up. She's written to us about her visit and we are expecting her train to come in about five minutes.

In the distance I see it, a long, moving, metal, grey thing headed towards the station. Hopefully this one is her train. We haven't seen each other in a while, the last time was when we paid her a visit on one of our anniversaries before Maya was born. She had looked healthy then, back to her old self. Mostly.

Loud, cranky, sarcastic Johanna is back and is bounding towards us, tackling me. She pulls me into a tight hug which I return gladly. "Nice to see you doing well, Mockingjay."

"You, too, Johanna." She pulls back and hugs Peeta, too. Then Haymitch, who we managed to bring with us. She crouches in front of Peeta, "Hi," she whispers to Maya, who's hiding behind her father's legs.

"Say hi, Maya. This is your aunt Johanna."

"You can call me Aunt Jo," she smiles. A real smile, without any hint of malice or mockery. Like Peeta, Maya brings out the best in everyone. First, Haymitch. Then her. "And this is Charlie." She gestures to the hairy black and brown puppy wagging his tail beside her.

"Hi," Maya whispers shyly. "My name's Maya."

"Give me a hug?"

After a few seconds, she moves forward and wraps her arms around Johanna's neck, giggling. "I like your hair," she says.

Johanna looks taken aback, surprised at what she heard. If I were her, if I had purposely cut my hair short to remind me of how far I've come, I'd react the same way, too.

The five of us walk back to the Village together, and the people from town greet us along the way with smiles and waves. It makes my heart swell to see that they're just as happy as us to have healed after all _that. _When I turn to look at my friends' faces, I see that they've realized the same thing.

Since it's almost noon, we just drop by the butchery to buy some slices of meat instead of hunting. I can do that tomorrow, and if Johanna wants to join, then that would be great, too.

Haymitch brings over a bottle of wine, saying times like this deserve a special drink. But of course, he had to prepare a glass of juice for her granddaughter. Neither of them complained.

Peeta bakes a loaf of bread which we share, dipping it in the stew we prepared. Lunch is inevitably raucous, with Johanna and Haymitch together, I should have seen it coming.

"So, Johanna, how's life in Seven?" Peeta asks.

"Seven is doing fine, and I guess I am, too. We've rebuilt almost everything, but they're thinking of renovations. The people from home are working together to make the forests flourish again. I help them, too. Just in planting though. They're kind of scared to let me hold an axe again. Can't blame them. But anything with trees, I'm totally fine. What about Twelve? And you guys," she points her fork at me and Peeta. "Especially you guys," then winks.

"What exactly do you want to know?" I ask, my voice slightly shaking in nervousness. I don't want anything to slip. Maya's too young for these things.

"The exciting stuff, Katniss. I want all the details. If I remember correctly, you didn't answer all my questions that morning after your wedding."

"I don't remember anything, sorry," I lie.

"Of course, you didn't! That was the best night of your life, I told Peeta what to do. Coached him, you would say. You know," she grabs a handful of her hair and tugs at it sharply.

"Johanna! Not in front of—" Peeta jerks his head towards the direction of our daughter, who is eyeing him quizzically. Heat rushes to my cheeks and I cough, bringing a napkin to my face to cover it.

"You can say anything to me, Papa. I won't get mad at you."

"Oh, I'm not worried about that, sweetie. I'm worried about your mother."

At this point I'm glaring at the two of them—Peeta looks nervous, but Johanna's just smirking. Which brings me to scowl.

"Okay then, later."

I groan.

* * *

Dinner is a completely different story. It's quiet, almost solemn. Maya had asked to be tucked to bed early, saying she's sleepy. Without her, there's no stopping us from talking about things us adults have been through together. Things she wasn't there to witness. Luckily. Not one eye is dry at the table.

"Sometimes I forget that Finnick's gone, even now after more than a decade. But I still do. Whenever something nice or memorable happens, my first thought would be to call him and tell him about it. I remember just last month I already had the phone in my hands when I… you know," she gulps. "He was my closest friend."

_Friend._ Johanna, of all people, found a friend in Finnick. I finally stop holding back and let the tears flow from my eyes.

"I think he was my only friend, actually. And he's gone. But that's good for him. At least he doesn't spend half a day locked up in a room crying because you miss someone you can never bring back. Nothing and no one to hold you but your dog." Her voice sounds cold, emotionless, but it hitches at the end. So I know she's on the verge of crying.

"You have us, Johanna," I whisper, reaching out to her. "You still have us."

"I know. And thank you. But some people you just can't replace."

Her statement makes me think of my dad, and Prim, and Cinna, and everyone else. No one's replaceable, I realize. Once you let them be a part of you, once you've shown them a bit of who you are, and they've done the same thing, there's no escaping it. It's inevitable. They're a part of you and you're a part of them forever.

"You two are lucky. And I'm happy for you. You found each other and fought to stay together. Even with all the bullshit Snow implanted in your man's mind, he was able to come back to you." She pauses, pinching the bridge of her nose to stop the tears.

"I wish he had come back to me, too. I wish I just agreed right away, to let those brightly colored freaks play me. Maybe he'd still be here. Maybe Maya has a playmate now. Maybe… maybe I wouldn't be so lonely."

That does it, the last straw, and she crumbles. Her whole body shakes from her sobs, and I pull her to me. Peeta wraps his arms around us, easily encompassing both our small frames.

"I miss him. I miss him so much. They killed him when I said no. That's why I'm still scared. I don't want to love. I can't let them use that against me again."

"You're strong, Jo. And the world's different now. You can let yourself love again," I hug her tighter. "If—if anybody dares use love against you, just ring Peeta and I. We'd take them down for you," I add as a joke.

"It's not that easy, brainless. We're different, remember? Nobody would ever understand what we've been through."

She's right. You can't _know _what it's like if you hadn't been there.

It hits me again how lucky I am. To have been allowed to win with Peeta as my co-victor. To have gotten out the Quell and survived the war with him still by my side. If I had lost Peeta, then I probably would have ended up alone like Johanna. Even if I was open to love, for the sake of finding someone to take comfort in, nobody would ever really understand.

Gale is out of question, I'm sure he wouldn't have had the patience to deal with my stubborn personality. As I've said before, we're too alike. And yeah, maybe he was in the war, too, but I was in the Games and he wasn't. I realize that there was a silver lining in being a tribute with Peeta. The Games changed us, bent us, and broke us even. It made us different, but our being different made it clearer that no one else can offer us the comfort we need in our dark moments. It's just us. Peeta and I, and I'm more than grateful.

I know better than to tell Johanna time will come. I'm sure she knows it anyway.

"I know what you're thinking, Mockingjay. He's out there. I hope he is. And can he make it quicker? I'm really tired of waiting."

Her joke is nothing funny, but the three of us laugh anyway. Just to relieve the tension in the atmosphere. We leave it at that, finish our dinner, and clean up. We watch her retreat to her room with Charlie cradled in her arms and walk to our room.

The following morning, when I go to ask her for a hunting trip, I see it's not only her and Charlie anymore. Maya's curled on her side sleeping beside Johanna.

"Hey, Johanna." I nudge her shoulders. Her eyes dart open instantly, those brown orbs filled with panic. "It's okay. It's just me. I—um, I'm going hunting. Do you want to join me?"

As an answer, she gets up from her bed. Maya has stirred awake, too. "Good morning," she greets, blinking at me sleepily. "Are you going hunting, Mama?"

"Yep, good morning too, honey," I kiss the top of her head. "Why don't you join Papa in bed? He's all alone there."

"Okay."

"Oh, take Charlie, too," Johanna tells her. The dog sits up happily at the sound of his name.

"Okay. Take care, alright?"

"We will. You go sleep beside Papa." With that, she gets up and walks out, the dog following her behind.

I already have my boots and jacket on, the game bag slung over my shoulder. Johanna's only in her shirt and pants, and I'm just about to go out to let her change when she closes the door and starts stripping. I forgot that she doesn't mind this. So I just look away while she changes. Eventually we get out the room with her fully clothed, but not without her teasing me for being a prude.

We take the same route I use when hunting. I lend her Gale's old bow, but she pulls out two knives from her pocket and says she's better at them. I had no idea she had them with her, but I guess I should have known. A part of us victors never really left the Games.

I take down a large turkey, which should be enough to last us for a day, and Johanna manages to kill a bunch of squirrels with her knife. Before the sun gets too hot, we head back home.

Lunch is bigger than yesterday, considering the whole turkey we brought back. Peeta roasts it, then prepares some sort of sauce he pours over it. We feast on it and eat more than half. It's that delicious. After lunch, we leave Maya with our guests downstairs for a shower. I remember years ago, before we got married, I thought of wanting to do it with Peeta because it's faster and the act is so intimate. Like sharing it feels so… sacred.

God, I hate it when I try to describe things.

Anyway, when we finish, they're playing—believe it or not—hide-and-seek. I spot Haymitch peering from underneath the stairs, I don't know where Johanna is, and Maya's It. Now this is my daughter, and I will definitely not let her lose. So when she turns to us, I point to where her grandpa is hiding.

"Boo!" she screams. Haymitch pretends to be surprised, then lifts her up in his arms, using his beard to tickle Maya. She's giggling, "I wonder where Aunt Jo is."

Just then, I see her silently approaching them from behind, then surprises them both with a fake growl. After that we all decide to rest, Maya and Johanna take a nap in the guest room, Haymitch goes back to his house, Peeta and I retreat to our bedroom.

I wake hours later, my face pressed close to Peeta's chest. When I try to get up, his arms only tighten further around me. "Peeta?"

"Hm?"

"Wake up, honey. We need to prepare some dinner."

He smiles, like he can't believe something. I don't understand why he looks like that. What did I do? Or say?

"Did you just…call me 'honey'?"

_Oh. That. _"I won't if you make such a big deal out of it."

"No! No, I won't. I swear. I like it."

"You better. Now come on, we don't want our guests to starve."

The turkey's still good, so Peeta only heats it up and throws in some potatoes. He prepares a bunch of rolls while I make us tea. Haymitch comes over again for dinner, and we eat, clean up and say our goodnights.

Maya doesn't even bother going to her room, just walks straight into where Johanna stays. For the following nights, she's kept her company willingly.

On her last full day here in Twelve, we take her to the woods, not to hunt or anything. Just to lie down on the grass in the meadow. We victors are easily pleased, a few minutes of peace and knowing nobody is out to kill us is enough. The four of us adults—me, Peeta, Johanna, and Haymitch—sit in silence, feeling the breeze brush across our faces, while Maya is chasing around Charlie.

One time I caught Johanna watching her with a smile on her lips. It's nice to know we can do something to make her genuinely happy even just for a short while.

She leaves for Seven the day after with a promise she'll come back when she can. We tell her we'll be waiting. After we've sent her off, we ask Maya why she has agreed to sleep beside her aunt for the whole duration of her visit. She simply tells us, "She needed someone."

* * *

**A/N: This is a sequel, so most of you have read _Always_. I mentioned there once that Peeta wrote letters to Katniss as a part of his therapy and I was thinking of really writing them and publishing them here. I'm still not sure, but would you guys be interested? Reading Peeta's letters? But all of that aside, here's a quote from the next chapter: "Papa, look at this! It's a huge bath tub!"  
****  
Maya's so cute, God.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: ****_Always _****just reached more than 20,000 views! Aack! God, I'm so happy, so here I am uploading another chapter at 2 in the morning for you guys. Oh, and about the letters to Katniss, would anybody else be interested? Anyone? Somebody? Anybody?**

**Did you read that in Simba's voice? No? Try again. (This chapter's a long one)**

* * *

A week before her third birthday, we visit the Hawthornes again, for her to meet her cousins. Ash is now eleven Will is six, which only means they're fuller of energy. I actually am scared, because they're boys and young and restless, but I'm surprised to see how they treat Maya. They're extremely gentle when it comes to her. Protective, too. They treat her like their little sister, which pulls at my heartstrings. I miss those times when I still had a little sister.

All three of them adore each other, and are up before us adults. By the time we wake up, they're already playing outside, Ash and Will holding each of Maya's arms as she runs around the lawn, squealing and laughing and smiling.

She sees me standing by the doorway, then yells, "Mama!"

I walk to meet her and she runs for me like a charging bull, leaving her two older cousins behind. Scooping her up in my arms, I wipe the droplets of sweat on her forehead and sit on one of the chairs. "Are you having fun?"

"Yes, Mama!" she says, nodding enthusiastically. "Ash and Will are so fun! They very great brothers."

"They're not your brothers, Maya," I tell her, chuckling softly. "They're just your cousins."

"Oh, okay. Cousins." She looks around, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Where's Papa?"

"Oh, Papa's inside." I tell her.

"Can we go see him?"

"Okay, let's go see your dad." I stand from our spot and get in, holding the door for Ash and Will who are both dripping in sweat. They both greet me a good morning. It is weird hearing them call me Aunt Kat.

Peeta and Gale are at the table, drinking their coffees while Kate's flipping an egg at the stove. I greet her a good morning and walk over to the dining area. Peeta's smiles when he sees us, putting his mug down, "Hey."

"Hey," I hand him Maya and give him a peck on the lips. I take the vacant seat to his right, just as Ash and Will come back downstairs for breakfast. Kate arrives with a plate of fried eggs, bacon, and sausages.

After breakfast, we head to the park, where Maya's introduced to a bird native to District Two. The next day, we set up a picnic and stay outside until it gets dark. Every day we do something different for her to see new things. She is so easily amazed by anything colorful, and like Peeta, absolutely loves sunsets.

On our last day, the day before Maya's birthday, Ash and Will send us off with presents. They're covered in wrapping paper with balloons printed on it. It's not too big for it to be stuffed toys but I can't think of anything else. It doesn't matter, once we get home, we'll know.

"Bye, Maya!" the two kids yell from the platform, waving at her.

"Say goodbye, honey," I tell her softly. She turns to me, sending me a look I can't name, a mixture of confusion and… hate? I don't know. I crouch down so we're eye to eye.

"Goodbye?" she asks, crossing her arms, taking her hand out of my grip.

"Yeah, goodbye." I hold her by the elbows, scared she'll storm away.

She turns again to the Hawthornes, then purses her lips. Oh, no. I don't like this face. Her attention's now back to me, "No."

"Honey," I start. "We need to go home."

"I don't want to leave yet."

"But we have to, dear. We'll just come back."

"No, we'll stay here," she says defiantly, holding her side of the argument all on her own. "We'll stay."

I sigh, how am I going to win this? I turn to Peeta for help, he smiles at me, clearly he's been thinking of something to counter our daughter's side. "Grandpa Haymitch is waiting at home. Don't you want to see him?" he says.

"Oh, okay." And just like that, she can't wait to board the train. I have to thank Peeta for this, and Haymitch, too, for being my daughter's favorite playmate.

Once we get out of the station a whole day later, she doesn't stop asking about her grandpa, and I had to take her to his house before she threw a tantrum. Peeta's off to the bakery to get the cake he asked Chris and Josiah to make, after fifteen years, they're still his employees, and they're our good friends. Maya loves them.

We find Haymitch on his couch watching some random movie on the television. He scowls when he sees me by the doorway but it quickly disappears when she hears his granddaughter call him.

"Oh, hey sweetheart," he says, lifting her in his arms. "Happy birthday!" she greets a giggling Maya. "Why are you here?"

"She missed you." I tell him. "And we promised her we'll visit you once we get back here. She didn't want to leave, it was the only way to get her board the train."

Haymitch chuckles at that, "You're a lot like your mother, aren't you? Stubborn, always wants to get what she wants."

I glare at him, but a soft rapping on the door makes us turn. Peeta's peeking from outside. "Hey, it's ready."

"Okay," I tell him. "Haymitch, you wanna come?"

"'Course. I was going to drop by later in the afternoon anyway."

I offer to carry her, but he insists. When I asked him why, he just shrugged, but I know he missed her, too. He even got her a present, a small white stuffed dog covered in spots. You could guess it was the end of the stuffed bear's reign.

We sing her a happy birthday, then Peeta asks her what she wants for her birthday. She surprises the three of us when she says, "I've thinked about it."

"It's thought, honey. Not thinked. But what do you want?"

"Okay, I've thought about it," she corrects herself. "There. Um, I want a brother like Ash or Will."

Oh, dear.

"Sweetie," Peeta starts. "It's not that easy to get a new baby. We're not even sure if we'll get you a brother or a sister."

"I've taken care of it," she says. "Wait here."

She squirms out of my grasp and climbs upstairs. I hear Haymitch snort beside me, which he tries to cover with a cough. She comes down a bit later, holding a piece of paper in her hands. "Here," she hands me the paper.

"What's this?" I ask.

"I asked Ash to write a letter to Mr. Stork. All we have to do now is to send it to him."

Oh. This is not how this is supposed to go.

I read the letter she handed to me. She says she wants a brother, with blond hair like Peeta but eyes like Will. She wants him to have my voice though, so he can sing her to sleep like I do every night. I feel Peeta behind me, and he coughs. I know he's reading the letter, too.

"Sweetie, um, Mr.—Mr. Stork receives a lot of letters from parents all over the world. He's a busy bird, so we might not get you a brother anytime soon."

"That's okay. It doesn't have to be tomorrow. We can just send Mr. Stork the letter and wait."

"Oh," I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God. "Okay, honey. We'll see what we can do, but for now, what do you want? Something we can get you right away?"

"Um, I miss Papa's cookies."

"That we can give you."

* * *

The house is quiet as I step in, and it no doubt makes me nervous. For our family, quiet is never calming when we are not in the same room. We constantly need noise to know everything's okay.

"Peeta, are you—oh."

"Hi, Mama," Maya greets from her spot in front of the hearth. Loose papers and crayons decorate the center table which has found its place again in the living room. She gets up and I crouch down so she can kiss me on the cheek. "Are you looking for Papa?"

I tell her yes, and she tells me Peeta went out to help a bit in the bakery so Josiah and Chris don't feel abandoned. I get what he means because it has been quite a while since he last dropped by the bakery. Probably a month or so.

"Have you eaten?" I ask her softly.

"Yeah, I had cookies and milk before Papa left. What about you, Mama? Have you eaten?"

"I had some bread before I hunted, don't worry," I say, smiling. "Thanks for asking." I kiss her cheeks again. "I'll just clean up, okay? Then I'll join you."

"Okay," she tells me, so I head upstairs and shower, cleansing myself of the soot from the woods. Afterwards, I get dressed and head back down to spend some time with my daughter. We draw a bit, and honestly, our illustrations are so alike you wouldn't be able to tell which one is mine or hers. It's either she's already great, or I really just suck.

After about an hour I leave her to prepare some lunch since it's almost noon. We eat, and Peeta still hasn't come back from town. I wonder why. Upstairs, I bathe Maya, and we play a bit, using the foam to draw things and put fake beards and stuff. Kid things I never got to experience, but am happy for my daughter to have. I dress her in a pair of leggings and a sleeveless floral dress.

When we get back downstairs, Peeta's just walking in from outside holding what looks like a piece of paper in his hands. "Oh, hey. I went to the bakery to help a bit," he tells me. "How's my little muffin?"

Maya giggles and runs to her dad. Peeta hoists her up and kisses her nose. They're both so cute it makes me smile. "I just got held up on the way home," he says as I walk towards them. He places Maya back down on the floor, her running back to continue her drawing, and a peck on my lips.

"Well, obviously."

"Grace invited me for lunch."

"Oh." I say, but it came out more of a question. The memory in my head makes me start to walk back but he keeps his hand firm against my side. Though I can't move away, his grip still feels gentle. I remind myself that this is Peeta, the only person capable of doing anything and still be gentle.

A beat passes with just us staring at each other, me not knowing what else to say, and him most likely waiting for me to speak. When it becomes clear I won't, he tells me, "She's getting married. She wants me to decorate their wedding cake."

I feel my whole body relax, and I wasn't even aware I was tense. "That's—that's great news. Who's the guy?"

He tells me it's Joseph, the only redhead I know in this district, which shocks me because he is nothing like Peeta. "Why is this about me?"

"Harvest Festival," I simply tell him.

He looks confused, then nervously laughs. "You still remember that?"

"Kind of unforgettable. You know, just imagine seeing a person eating up the love of your life's face. Very scarring."

"I wouldn't mind if it's you, though," he teases. I have to admit it's hard to resist. Something just tells me to bite the bait, which would have annoyed the younger me. But somewhere along my relationship with Peeta, I've learned to just let my emotions tell me what to do. It's easier. So I tell him, "Me neither," reaching up to—

"You've just kissed!" Maya yells from the living room, stopping me. Apparently, she's watching us and not drawing. She has this thing about kisses having to have a specific span of time in between. I sigh and laugh to myself. This will have to wait until tonight.

* * *

When I wake, I'm tempted to push Peeta off of me and off the bed. It's not that I'm pissed or anything, but when the weather's too hot, like this morning, he transforms into this huge hot human oven, like he is now. I wriggle myself from underneath him, but he's so heavy.

"Peeta," I whisper. "Honey, wake up. God, you're so hot."

"Thanks," he mumbles against my ear.

"Oh, he's funny, too." I chuckle. "Hey, come on. I'm dripping in sweat."

He chuckles, then sits up. I don't remember going to sleep with him bare chested. I watched him pull on a shirt after last night, but here he is now, his bare torso covered in a thin film of sweat, glinting against the sunlight streaming through our window. We take a shower, but we're already sweating again before we even make it out the bathroom.

Maya's downstairs, flopped on the couch, using a folded piece of paper from her sketchpad to fan herself some air. I laugh, and she pulls herself up to look at us. "Hi Mama, Papa."

"Hey," I greet her, wiping off her sweat using the towel slung on my shoulder. An idea forms in my mind, and it's perfect. I ask Peeta to prepare what we need, while I help Maya dress up. Together, we make our way into town, through the where the Seam has once been, and into the woods. Halfway through our trip, Maya tells us she's tired, so Peeta carries her in his arms as we walk.

The lake comes into view, its waters sparkling underneath the midsummer sun. We settle underneath the shade of a huge tree, sitting on the blanket we've brought. Peeta and I help change Maya into her swim clothes, a blue one-piece suit dotted with flowers, a gift from Annie and Finn. I don't bother wearing Johanna's gift, going for a swim with just my shirt and shorts. Peeta just takes off his blue shirt.

The three of us wade into the shallow water until it comes up to Maya's chest. We sit beside her as she excitedly splashes the water surrounding her tiny body. She didn't get to experience this the first time we brought her here, back when she was only months old. "Papa, look at this!" she exclaims. "It's a huge bath tub!"

This draws out a laugh from the two of us, "Sweetie, it's not a huge bath tub," Peeta says. "It's called a lake."

"Lake?"

"Yes, lake."

"Okay," she says, turning her attention to the clear water, feeling it pass through the spaces between her fingers. This continues for a while, then she gets so quiet and stills her hand in front of her. I feel worry bubble up in me. She is _never_ quiet. Ever. Except when she's sleeping of course. I look to Peeta for reassurance.

"Maya?" he asks.

"Boo!" she screams, taking us by surprise and splashing our faces. Her giggles sound so cute it's hard to get mad at her for scaring us. I feel my chest lighten.

"God, don't do that!" Peeta tells her, his tone light. "You scared us!"

She's still giggling, "Sorry. I love you."

"I know," Peeta says. "We love you, too."

"Mama, Papa, can I walk around? I wanna explore."

"Um," Peeta looks to me, his eyes questioning. It's kind of dangerous, but the lake gets deeper very gradually anyway. So I take his hand and turn us around so we're facing the shallow part of the water.

"You can go around, but not past where Papa and I are sitting, okay?"

"Okay," she whispers, then kisses us both on our cheeks.

"Be careful."

We huddle together as our daughter, a product of our love, goes around, picking up leaves and rocks that interests her. Peeta pulls me to his side and kisses the side of my head. Again, like it does every day, I feel all the love I have for him surge through me. It's so overwhelming it makes me want to cry. Probably from being repressed too long.

I turn my head and nudge him with my nose. He faces me, and I pull him close to bring my lips to his. I realize there is nothing in the world right now that can make me regret accepting Peeta into my life. We've been through thick and thin, the world tried to tear us apart, but still, here we are. Together.

I never thought that that blond boy I saw at his family's bakery years ago, the boy who took a beating for me, who threw me the bread that saved my life, would be the very same person I'd be thrown in the Games with, who'll make me realize love is not always pain, who was taken away from me but still came crawling back just to continue what we had between us… the person I've decided to share the rest of my life with, who gave me the most wonderful daughter, the very same person I'm willing to die for any day.

"Mama! Papa! Look!" Maya yells, halting our kiss. I pull away, smiling to myself. I hear the water slosh as she's walking back to us with her hands cupped around something. "For you," she says, extending her arms.

"Thank you," I tell her, opening up my palm for her to place the white flower. She has brought us Katniss flowers, and I doubt she knows what they are.

Peeta speaks before I can, "Do you know what these are?" he asks her.

She shakes her head. "I just thought they were beautiful so I picked them."

"Well, they're called Katniss."

"Like Mama?" she asks in awe.

"Yep, like your mother. Beautiful like her, too," he tells her, which makes me smile. "Like you, too."

He grabs her by the waist, Maya's laughter filling the air as he tickles her. They both look so happy. The two most important people in my life are happy. Of course, I'm happy, too.

We head back home a good couple of hours after lunch, the sun starting to descend behind our backs. I shoot some game along the way for our dinner. When we get home, I help our daughter clean up and leave Peeta to cook in the kitchen. We eat, then tuck her to bed before finally settling underneath the covers. My head on his chest, his arms around me, protecting me, warding off my demons.

Peeta's heartbeat is still my most favorite sound in the world. Not even my father's voice can compete with it. I count in my head, my pace matching Peeta's heartbeat as we're waiting for sleep to come.

Then all of a sudden I'm left behind, his heart rate rising by the second. His arms tighten around me, so I twist myself out of his embrace, sitting up and facing him. His eyes look wild, confused, terrified, but he hasn't been pulled under yet. "Peeta, it's not real. Not real," I whisper, moving my hands to cup his face.

"Katniss, go. I don't think I can…" he whimpers. "I can't…"

"No, Peeta. You can. Hang on. You're stronger than him. Don't let him win," I lean in to place my forehead against his but he pushes me out of the way. "Peeta…"

He gets out of bed and backs himself to the wall, gripping his hair with both of his hands. "Peeta…" I call to him, but he can't hear me anymore. He's zoned out again, like he does when he's trying to fight off a bad episode. I sit in front of him and gently place my palms on his knees. He tenses at the feeling of my hands, but doesn't shove them away. "Peeta, we're in our room," I start. Telling him what's happening helps. Reminds him of who he is. "We're on the floor. You're having a flashback, but you can fight it. You always win. Just listen to my voice—"

"Mama?"

No… no, not now. She can't see this. I turn to the sound of her small voice. She's peeking from the doorway, her pajamas all wrinkled already.

"Maya, honey, why are you still up?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Why don't you go back to your room? I'll be there in a minute."

"What's happening to Papa?" she asks, ignoring what I've said. She steps inside fully and starts walking to us.

"Who's that?" Peeta asks. He forgets some things when he's having his episodes, one time he even forgot we were married. He kept on insisting he would never marry a mutt from the Capitol. When it passed, he cradled me in his arms as he repeatedly asked for forgiveness for all the things he said.

But before I could answer him now, Maya speaks, "It's just me, Papa. My name's Maya, but you call me 'sweetie' more. And I like it when you call me that. Mama calls me 'honey,' and I like that, too." She's reached us now, standing only a few inches from Peeta, who's looking at her like she's just grown some wings.

I see her lift her arms to touch Peeta, "Maya…" I warn.

"It's okay. I'm not scared of Papa, he'll never hurt me." She slowly pries away Peeta's hands from his hair and places them carefully around her waist. I think—I hope—she's done with whatever she's doing. This is too dangerous, what if Peeta isn't back fully?

But she isn't. This is just the beginning. My heart is hammering its way out of my chest. Please, please, don't let anything happen to her.

She wraps her arms around Peeta's neck and starts talking, "What's happening, Papa? Was it a bad dream?"

Peeta relaxes a little, but not fully, then nods. "Yeah. Just a bad dream," he lies.

"Oh," she says, pulling away. She uses her hands to wipe the tears that has fallen from her father's eyes. "Don't cry, Papa. It was just a dream. You said so. It's not real." She shakes her head. "Not real."

I couldn't move. It's like I'm frozen to my spot, I can't do anything else but watch the scene unfolding before me.

I wonder when she got so mature. She's only three and a half years old! And how does she know what to say? As far as I know, this is the very first flashback she's seen. But by the way she's handling this, I…don't know. Maybe it runs in the blood? The way she can comfort people, bring joy to their lives, how she can reach Peeta when I thought I couldn't.

Wait, what did she mean by she knows he won't hurt her? _What?_

"It's okay," she says again. "Mama and I are here."

Peeta's once tense shoulders sag, and he pulls her in again for a hug. He rests his chin on one of Maya's shoulders, his eyes closed. "I love you. Both of you."

"We love you, too," I hear her say.

They stay like that for a while, I'm just sitting here on my spot watching them. Peeta's eyes open and land on me, then he gives me a sad smile. I lean in and kiss him, then the back of Maya's head. I help him up to his feet and the three of us make our way to the other room.

He sets her down her bed and pulls the covers up to her chin. He bends down and kisses her forehead, whispering, "Thank you."

She smiles at her father, "I love you, Papa." Then she looks at me, "You, too, Mama. I love you."

"You know I love you, too. Do you want me to stay and sing for you?"

"Papa needs you more tonight," she says, shocking me and Peeta.

"Okay," I tell her, giving her one last kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight, Maya."

The whole time I'm downstairs getting Peeta his medicine, I'm still in awe of what I had witnessed. Even after we're settled on the bed and are underneath the covers again, I'm still thinking about it.

I've been told children can do wonderful things, but I'm sure they weren't talking about dealing with a flashback, or passing up an offer of staying with her because somebody needs my company more.

They never mentioned that.

* * *

After that night, it's like nothing has happened. She doesn't mention or ask about it, making us believe that she's far too mature for her age. The curious questions still come, but never about Peeta's flashback.

It's so unusual, so unlike a child to let something that bizarre just pass like it's something she deals with every day. So it's us who ask her about it. It was about that night when our conversation started but then suddenly it's about her birthday wish a year ago. The one that concerns a made up baby-delivering bird.

"Where is he? Shouldn't he be here now?"

"Well, Mr. Stork is still busy. I'm sure he received your letter, he's really just attending to a lot of parents," Peeta says.

"Okay," she whispers, getting back to the flower she was coloring. After a moment she adds, "Do you think we should write another letter?"

"I'll take care of it," I tell her, taking Peeta's hands. "We'll just be upstairs, honey. We'll work on that letter, just call us if you need anything."

She nods. "Tell Mr. Stork I really want a brother soon."

"I will." I get up and make my way upstairs, leading Peeta into our bedroom. I lock the door behind us and lean against it. "Okay, she wants a brother," I tell him.

Peeta's eyes bug out, "We're not really going to try now, are we?"

"No! No, we're just going to talk about it."

"Oh, of course. So… what?"

"I don't know! You're the one who's good with words!"

"The hell I am." He takes me to the bed and we sit in the middle of it, cross-legged. "What do you think?" he asks.

"Maya… she's great. She an amazing kid, and... And I don't want to disappoint her. I love her, I'd do anything for her."

"I know, but I have to know if you want him, too."

Do I want a son? Another kid? I gulp, trying to clear my mind. My father once told us that to be prepared for the future, we must remember the past. Among all of his teachings and life lessons, that's the one that really stuck to me, because it saved our lives. I was able put something edible on our table for four years because of what he has taught me.

So I flip through my memories, looking back at my life as a mother, then I try to remember the emotions I felt.

I can't remember ever feeling like I made a mistake. That Maya, our daughter, was a mistake. Even when she's being difficult, to the point where I'm having a real argument with her, I never felt like I shouldn't have done this or that.

Especially that night, Peeta's flashback, in those moments, I swear, I was so grateful she's mine. Ours. Our flesh and blood. Peeta's and mine. I'm extremely thankful for her. I'm so proud of her. I love her.

But another child… having to deal with the fear, the nightmares, the pain, all twelve hours of it, and don't even get me started on the pushing. And changing diapers, and feeding, and unintentional bites, and baby spits, and messy hair, and cute smiles, and sleepless nights, and tiring days, and soft laughter, and countless questions, and never-ending playtimes…_ again._

Yes, I'd like that.

* * *

**A/N: Do you guys like it? How I used Maya to make Katniss realize another kid wouldn't be so bad, to make way for our towheaded toast baby? I hope you do. I've adjusted some things, and _Real _would now have fifteen chapters instead of twelve, and a cut-scene or epilogue of some sort. I'm so excited for you guys to finish this. Usual quote from the next chapter: "We have to be a lot quieter than usual."**

**Blabbering aside, leave a review! Favorite this! Follow! Do anything! I love you! Thanks for reading!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I got to 38 reviews! You have no idea how much this makes me happy. Thank you guys! So anyway, here it is.  
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* * *

Sometime in summer, a letter from District Four arrives, from Annie, inviting us over for a short vacation. She said she invited the Hawthornes, too, and they've written back, confirming their attendance. Given that we have no plans for summer yet, and because Maya can't wait to see her cousins again, we tell them yes, we'd be going too. Haymitch is also invited, but he declines.

We're off to leave next week, so two days before, we start packing our things. Maya insisted, almost begged, that we bring the stuffed dog she got from Haymitch for her birthday a year ago. Peeta and I originally had a suitcase worth of belongings each, but after a long time of sorting and removing, we managed to lessen our things until it fits into a single luggage bag. Less hassle. It still has some space inside. The stuffed dog would fit, but get crushed. Maya doesn't want that because she said, "This is from Grandpa Haymitch and he's the only grandpa I have."

We really didn't have anything to say to that, so we still end up carrying two suitcases.

When we get to the place, the Hawthornes are already there. Ash has grown a full four inches since we last saw him, and Will… well, he's still cute. Gale has grown a short stubble, and it suits him. He looks older, but his looks hasn't changed, even now that he's only four years away from forty. He's one of those people who get better with age.

Kate still looks stunning.

My mom's face only changed a bit, but aside from the new wrinkles and paler hair, she pretty much still looks the same. Annie, too.

But Finn, now eighteen… he looks so much like his father. His built, too. For a second, actually, when I first saw him I thought it was Finnick. But then reality catches up to me, spoiling the moment.

"Hey, Aunt Kat," he nods.

"Finn! Look at you, I can still remember those days when you were little, you used to ride on your Uncle Peeta's shoulders."

He smiles at me politely, and I see that he has Finnick's dimples, too.

Peeta catches up to me and sees Finn, "Oh, God. You've grown so much!" he exclaims. And it's true, he's almost the same height as Peeta. He nudges Finn with his elbow, "Handsome young man, you got a girl?"

He smiles in response, guilt written all over his face. "Yeah."

"Who's she?"

"A classmate. I've known her since childhood. Grew up with her."

"Well, Finn, you take care of her, alright? You don't let anyone hurt her, even you."

"Yes, sir," he gives Peeta a salute before turning to help in the kitchen.

"He looks so much like him," Peeta whispers as soon as Finn is out of sight. "I actually thought he was Finnick himself."

"Me, too."

We stand there side by side remembering our friend for a while. His crooked smiles, golden hair, loud laughter, suggestive stares—how we had mistaken him as a pet of the Capitol when in reality, he was fighting a battle with the world around him. He was molested, sold for his body, forced to play along because if he didn't, one of his loved ones would end up dead.

He was a warrior. A very strong one. And we miss him.

A sigh escapes us both, and again I realize how lucky we are. And how thankful I am that Peeta's alive. My arms wrap around his neck and I revel in his presence, inhaling him in.

"You okay?" he asks, but he wraps his arms around me.

I nod. "Just… I'm really thankful you're here with me."

"Me too," he whispers. His lips brush the side of my head, and I pull back a little to kiss him.

He smiles, "I'll just put our things in the room," he says. I nod and he kisses my forehead before he leaves. I watch as he carries our suitcases up the stairs and disappears into a room. I decide go around and explore.

On this visit, we're not staying at one of the Victor houses, but rather in a kind of a transient house with a pool in the backyard. It's not far to the shore either, so we can always go for a swim in the sea. A double door is at the end of the hallway, leading to the pool area. The kitchen is situated to its left, across from the living room of some sort to the right of the said door. There are three couches in the living room, forming a U-shape facing a television. A large carpet is placed at the center, underneath a coffee table.

"Mama?"

I turn around from my spot and see Maya rubbing her eyes with her hands. "What is it?" I ask, moving to carry her in my arms.

"I'm sleepy," she whispers.

"But we just woke up, we haven't even eaten lunch yet."

"I'm tired," she just says. "I wanna nap."

And she really looks tired, her eyelids are drooping so I tell her, "Okay, just sleep here in Mama's arms first. Papa's not yet done setting up the room."

She nods, then leans her head on my shoulder, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her dark hair feels soft against my chin. I sway her, humming the lullaby I sing to her every night. In minutes, she's fallen asleep, I can feel her even breaths on my neck, so I take a seat on the middle couch. She doesn't mind when I sit, unlike most kids.

I hear heavy footsteps coming down the stairs, which means Peeta's done and I can put Maya to bed. But I think I'm okay with our current position. I can't move anyway, I might wake her. I see Peeta walk into view from behind us, his eyebrows raised. "Oh, hey. I thought you were asleep." He walks closer and kisses me again on the lips, then kisses the back of Maya's head. "Want some help with that?"

"Yeah, sure."

He helps me stand and offers to take Maya up the room. I decide to let him, but when I try to loosen her arms around my neck, her grip tightens, pressing herself more to me. "Maya," I whisper. "I'm just going to hand you to Papa. He'll take you up the room so you can lie on the bed."

"I'm okay here."

"Oh."

I hear Peeta laugh softly. "Here, let me try something," he says. "Hey."

"I don't want the bed, Papa," she protests, snuggling even closer, not even giving Peeta the time to talk.

"No, not the bed. You can sleep in Papa's arms as long as you want. I won't put you down. It's just that Mama might get tired soon."

This makes her straighten up. She squints her eyes at Peeta, another thing she got from me. "You promise? No beds?"

"No beds."

"Okay," she agrees, turning away from me and spreading her arms for Peeta. He takes her from me, placing her head on his shoulder, and she immediately falls back to sleep. My back aches from the brief period of time I spent carrying her while standing up. She is small, but she's heavy. Or maybe I'm just not strong enough. It doesn't matter.

Lunch is served and we all eat at the table, sharing stories and exchanging smiles. Ash and Will missed Maya so much, or so they tell me, and they can't wait until she wakes up from the nap she refused to cut short to eat. I tell them they'll have to wait because she really looks comfortable in Peeta's arms.

Peeta, on the other hand, is having some difficulty eating the salmon using only his right hand. For the first half of the meal, he kind of manages. But gets tired eventually, mouthing a "help" to me, looking hopeless.

I cut up his fish so he can just fork them into his mouth with less difficulty. If it isn't obvious, Maya's not much of a fan of breaking promises. Just as Peeta's about to eat the last bit of his food, she wakes. I see him breathe a sigh of relief. The lengths he'd go just for our child. I love him more for that.

"Are you hungry?" I ask Maya, who's currently rubbing her eyes with her hands.

"Yeah," she answers, so I prepare some food for her on a plate. Peeta sits her on his lap and finishes his meal. I swap his plate for Maya's, and watch as he helps her use the utensils. Ash and Will are delighted to see her up, greeting her a loud hello. Maya giggles, but I think she doesn't remember them much. She was only three years old then. But she's a friendly kid, she knows everyone in Twelve better than me, so catching up to her older cousins would be an easy thing for her.

After resting for a bit, the kids go for a dip in the pool, with Finn watching over them. The huge age gap doesn't seem to bother him, and he acts as the fun big brother to his younger cousins. They play in the shallow part of the pool and we adults just watch them.

At about three in the afternoon, we tell them to climb out to rest. They don't ask for any extensions, clearly tired and content from all the playing they did. I help Maya clean up and change her clothes, then I leave her with Ash and Will in Gale and Kate's room so they can all sleep.

They're more tired than what I originally thought, because they're all sleeping soundly even before I get out the room. I pad downstairs, passing Annie who's going to take a nap. I find Peeta in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water. Gale's marinating some meat for our dinner later, Kate and my mom are in the living room watching some sitcom on the television.

At sunset, Peeta and I walk down the beach, enjoying a bit of alone time we haven't had since Maya was born. I'm not saying I regret her, some things you just miss. Like this one.

The sand feels so soft under my feet, the sound of the waves crashing the shore is heavenly to my ears. The orange glow of the setting sun looks deeper, tinting our skin orange and everything around us. We stop to watch it sink.

"Look at the waves," Peeta whispers from behind me, hugging me closer. "Notice how it never stops coming back, kissing the shore again and again no matter how many times it's sent away."

I smile at his words. "That's beautiful."

"I used to think I was the waves and you were always going to be the shore," he says. I know this shouldn't bother me, given that he's my husband and we have a lovely daughter, but it does.

"Peeta," I twist in his embrace. He's smiling, but is avoiding my eyes, his head bowed. I use my hands to make him look at me. "Hey."

"That was before, don't worry. I don't think that anymore." He gives me another one of his self-deprecating smiles, "It just felt like the right time. At the beach and sunset and all that. I realized I've never told you that."

"I love you."

"I know," he chuckles.

"I know you know, but that doesn't mean I can't remind you."

He smiles again, then presses his lips to mine for a long time. It's not anything rough and heated, but I like these kisses more. Probably because they're gentle, and warm. Not demanding, not pushing you to your limits, and not wanting to break you. Not too much heat to burn you, but just enough to make you feel something, to let you know you're alive.

These are not like those of the other kind, where you can hear your own heart, feel your blood rushing in your ears, those that scream _I want you._ It's not that I don't like the feeling of being wanted, I do. But anyone can want you. Even strangers can want you. But not everyone can love you. And it's what these kisses whisper, that _you are loved_. They're careful, soft, and that's how love should be.

Hearts are fragile things, and once they break, they're hard to piece back up. Unless the heart is willing to risk being broken again, just for the sake of love.

When we pull away, it's almost completely dark. As the light from the sun fades, the stars come out. They're more visible here, 'less light pollution' as Peeta likes to say. Lanterns come alive around us, giving the place a melodramatic look. It's as if the stars have come down to bathe us in their light.

Hand in hand, Peeta and I walk back to the house and when we get there, Gale and Kate are at the grill, preparing our dinner. Finn is swimming some laps in the pool. It looks so small for him. Peeking from the window, I find the kids inside, watching cartoons, feasting on a plate of sandwiches with glasses of fruit juice around them.

This summer is probably the hottest we've ever had, though the sun has set, the air still feels thick and humid. I'm sweating like crazy, my shirt clinging to my skin. Peeta's shirt is, too, but I know he looks better. His hair is wet, and when I point it out, he shakes it like a dog, then sticks his tongue out and pants for good measure.

It's weird thinking that that tongue has tasted mine.

Wait, what?

I laugh, mostly at myself for having such thoughts. Peeta tells me he's going for a dip, the heat too much for him. I tell him I'll join him later, after I've changed.

I find him minutes later, sitting on the pool steps, half of his body submerged in water. His hair and back are wet though, so I reckon he swam a bit before settling down. Finn must have come out when I was changing.

The water's warm, probably from being under the sun the whole day. Peeta senses me, looking my way. I send him a smile and sit on the step below him, positioning myself between his legs, my back against his bare chest.

"So, what do you think about this," he gestures to the pool.

"It's… different. It isn't the lake, but it's not the beach either. Nice for a change."

He hums in agreement, then kisses the spot behind my right ear. My whole body automatically tenses. For a second, I think he has forgotten what that spot is to me, but I feel his lips continuing the trail of kisses down my neck and I know he hasn't. He knows exactly what he's doing.

God.

I turn to face him, the hunger eating away at me, my eyes closing, but I hear someone clear his throat. My eyes flicker open to see Gale standing awkwardly to the side, a pair of tongs in his hand. "Sorry to ruin the moment, but the kids are coming."

Just then, we hear footsteps and squeals and yells and something else I can't place growing louder by the second. Maya's first to barge out the open door, Ash and Will following close. They look like they're running from something, then I hear it, the strange sound.

A huge golden retriever comes walking out, his long tail wagging on his back. Finn is holding the end of the leash, laughing softly to himself. "This is Luke," he introduces to us. "Chuck passed when I was six. I got really sad when he died, but Mom said we can't bring him back, and I should just be thankful for the time I got to spend with him. Even when I think it's short and it's not enough. Life's unfair like that."

"Yeah," Peeta and I agree, our shoulders sagging. We know this too well, experienced it firsthand.

Luke's sitting beside Finn, who is stroking the dog's blonde coat slowly. Ash, Will, and Maya are a good five feet from them, huddled together. "He doesn't bite, don't worry. I taught him. He's a good dog," Finn says.

He's panting. The dog, I mean. Then sneezes. Maya giggles at the sound he makes. The dog shakes his head, then continues his panting.

"Oh, look it's you," I tell Peeta as a joke to keep us from slipping into a somber mood. It works, drawing out a snort from him.

"At least I'm cute," he whispers, pressing kisses to my face and down my neck. "Wanna go write a letter to Mr. Stork?"

I smile. It's the code we've been using as an excuse to go up and do our thing without Maya ever getting suspicious. Technically, it's originally from me, I used it as an excuse to talk to Peeta alone in our room about our daughter wanting a brother, but it was Peeta who suggested we use it like that.

"Come on," I stand and pull him up, trying to keep my face straight. I know it's not working because my cheeks hurt from smiling. Peeta's grinning at me too, and we stay like this the whole short trip to the room.

I've just locked the door behind me when my back hits it and Peeta's lips come crashing down on mine. I think I was going to tell him something, it was important, but _oh God_. Oh God, I can't process anything else but how good this feels. My arms snake around his neck and he lifts me up, my legs wrapping around his narrow waist. He walks and puts me down the bed carefully, then starts kissing my neck, sucking gently. It feels so good I place a hand at the back of his head to keep him there.

He moves though, his lips trailing along my jaw, every inch of skin it passed feels like it's on fire. But it doesn't burn me. He takes my lips again, and kisses me openmouthed. My hips buck from below him, and we both moan at the contact. _Oh, this_. This is what I was supposed to tell him, "Peeta," I say, but it's too breathy, too much like a moan, so I try again. "Peeta."

"Hm?"

"We have to be a lot quieter than usual."

He laughs softly, "Okay," he whispers, one last word before we let ourselves go.

The last thing I remember telling him is this: "You've always felt right."

* * *

**A/N: Kinda short, isn't it? But things are going to be moving fast in the last couple of chapters. Yes, only two more chapters left. Sigh. But on a lighter note, I've already listed down some ideas for Peeta's letters. Right now, what I plan to do with it is for it to be some kind of retelling of some scenes from _Always _and _Real_, then I'll insert in some new scenes in their lives that Katniss didn't bother mentioning. Or she wasn't there to see, and what was going on Peeta's mind during those events. Things like episodes and nightmares and stuff. I'm pretty excited about it. I hope you guys are, too.**

**Preview quote from Chapter Fourteen: "I just don't like it when you and Mama cry. You're the best parents. I want to give you the best."**

**(Maya's basically my dream daughter, Peeta's my dream husband, and if I were to marry another female, I'd want her to be like Katniss)**


	14. Chapter 14

This was exactly how our last visit to District Four ended. That being a good four years and a half ago. History does repeat itself. The only things that were different is that on that first morning, I woke up earlier than Peeta, and Maya was screaming at him, "Papa! Wake up! Mama's dying!" She sounded so worried, and she was so panicked at what she was seeing. This, of course made me laugh, which is not an easy thing to do while throwing up. I had to stop for a second to tell Maya I'm not dying before finishing my business.

Peeta still held my hair back so I don't get puke on them.

"Is Mama okay? What happened to her?"

"We'll find out later, Maya. Then we'll tell you."

We do find out, and when she did, she squealed in delight and hugged us hard, thanking us again and again. She seems happier than Peeta and I combined.

"I'm going to be a brother!" she yells.

We chuckle at that, "Honey, you're going to be a sister. But you'll get a brother."

"What? Is that how it works? And wait, where is he? I wanna see him."

"We'll have to wait, Maya."

"But I thought he'll be delivered to our doorstep."

"It's um, hard to explain, but does it matter, Maya?"

She pouts her lips, thinking. "No," she says. "I guess not."

We wait for a month before telling our friends, or actually, family, Everyone's family now to us. And as expected, they're all happy. Who wouldn't be? We're talking about us here, Katniss and Peeta—the star-crossed lovers of District Twelve, who has been through not just one, but two Hunger Games and a rebellion, aside from the hijacking Peeta had endured—now happily married with a wonderful daughter and hopefully another daughter or a son in the future.

The pregnancy is easier compared to my first two—less nightmares and fear, more excitement and happiness. Especially with Maya around. She really is Peeta's daughter, both of them peppering me and my stomach with kisses every morning. They're both so excited it's hilarious.

But as I've said, it's just easier. Not perfect. Every now and then I wake screaming from a nightmare, having dreamt of losing the people I love. Most of the time they're about a blond faceless boy, _my child, _getting incinerated by my own flames.

The first few nightmares, I had come running to save him, but every time I touch him, I only make it worse. So in the following dreams, I leave him alone and run in the opposite direction. It doesn't make it better, leaving him, because I'll only wake up feeling guilty, if not hurt.

Peeta manages to calm me down almost every time before I wake Maya with my screams. But there was a day when my nightmare came not at night, but right before I wake for the day. Maya was already there, wedged between Peeta and I's bodies.

I don't know what I expected from her—maybe cry with me, or ask Peeta what's happening—but she did none of that. The two of them were both up from their sleep in an instant, Peeta first to pull me into an embrace, muffling my sobs, consoling me. I'm too caught up in my mind to notice Maya's small hands rubbing circles on my back.

Afterwards, when I've calmed down, she doesn't ask questions. Just looks at me, not understanding evident in her eyes. I pull her to me and hug her, relishing the feeling of her tiny body on my own. It helps more than Peeta's embrace, because in the hell of my mind, I watched and heard my _unborn child_ suffer. And eventually, die.

It only happens again on the last month of my pregnancy, but unlike the first time, curiosity gets the better of her. She asks me—or us, "Why is Mama screaming?"

"She just gets bad dreams, sweetie. She's afraid to lose your brother. I'm afraid, too," Peeta tells her, explaining it as vaguely as possible.

"But what about back then? Before he arrived? I heard her, too," Her voice is starting to rise, I can sense her anger boiling. I fear it's because we've kept her in the dark for too long. "Who's Prim? Why is she calling out your name sometimes, Papa? Why does Mama cry?! I hate seeing Mama cry! And why is it that sometimes you hurt her and she just sends me to my room? Why does she keep on telling you it isn't real? You weren't asleep before you started hurting her, it couldn't have been a bad dream! What's not real?!"

"Honey…"

She must see pain all over our faces, because her own softens. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm sorry Mama, Papa. I shouldn't have asked."

"No… no, Maya. It was right you asked, but I don't think you'll understand all of it now. It would be too much to take in, even your father and I were… battered with how fast things happened."

"Maya, come here," Peeta says, offering his arms. She reluctantly climbs into them. "Mama and I are sorry we can't tell you the answers to all of your questions now. But when you're old enough, when _we're _ready, I promise we'll explain. But can we let this go? Just for now, please?"

She's quiet for a while, her head bowed, unmoving in Peeta's arms, then she speaks, "I just don't like it when you and Mama cry. You're the best parents. I want to give you the best."

I feel tears falling from my eyes, and I choke out a sob.

"You're crying again," she points out.

I laugh, "This is different. I'm just happy you're our daughter, Maya." I press my lips to her forehead, gratefulness flooding every bit of my being.

"Papa, what's wrong with Mama? Why is she laughing and crying?"

"She's crying because she's happy," Peeta explains.

"I don't understand," she says, getting annoyed. She has her arms crossed now, a frown working its way on her face.

"All in due time, Maya," Peeta whispers, kissing the top of her head. "All in due time."

And in due time, things came.

When I first saw him, I thought I had given birth to Peeta. Same pale skin—unlike Maya's whose complexion is just a shade lighter than mine, blond hair, nose, and lips. I didn't catch the color of his eyes, for he was crying.

Peeta asked me the same question as he's gathered in my arms, but this time, I could not answer. I can't think of a name. This is my child and I can't think of a damn name to give him.

I hate myself. I hate my inadequacy. I hate not being enough. I hate this. I hate all of it. Because who, literally anyone in their right mind, would not know what name to give his or her offspring?

Maybe I'm not in my right mind. Maybe I'm deranged. Maybe I am because I could not name my own son, my own flesh and blood.

All this self-hatred gets directed at the poor thing. I don't play with him like I did with Maya. I ask Peeta to change his diapers, bathe him, and tuck him to bed. The only real interaction I have with him happens when he needs to be fed. I couldn't _not _feed him. You can't expect that from someone who almost died of starvation.

Peeta notices my coldness towards our son, and he confronts me about it on one winter night, three months after I gave birth. "Katniss, what's wrong?" he asks, closing our bedroom door behind him.

I don't budge and continue staring at the scar adorning the inside of my right foot. I don't want to talk about this. I want nothing to do with him.

"Katniss? You know you can tell me anything."

I blink. I feel the bed dip to my left and a hand clasping mine.

"Say something, please."

"We made a mistake."

As soon as the words fall out of my mouth, I feel his clutch on my hand loosen until it's completely gone. "Why do you think that? He's great, Katniss. He's just like Maya, but a lot quieter. I think he got that from you. He's reserved, like his mother."

"_He_, Peeta," I tell him harshly. I look up and meet his gaze. "_He_. _He's_ our son and we can't even give him a name!"

"We can always think of a name, Katniss."

"But we can't! What about the other things, Peeta? A good life? What about those? If I can't give him a name, then—"

"Ari."

We both turn to the sound of her voice. Tears streak her face, glinting against the moonlight streaming from the window.

"His name is Ari," Maya repeats. "There. You don't need to fight anymore."

I feel my mind go blank.

_Ari. _I turn back to Peeta, and he looks hurt. I hurt him. I hurt _Peeta_. I feel my heart sink to my stomach. I'm just about to tell him I'm sorry when I hear footsteps rush out of the room. _Ari. Ari. _Maya has ran out of the bedroom. She's upset, mad, disappointed, everything. Because of me. _Ari. _I don't know where she got it but it sounds right.

_Ari_.

_Ari._ Yes, that's his name.

Somehow in the jungle of my thoughts, my feet were able to catch up to my upset daughter. She's crying in the corner of her room, clutching her stuffed dog tightly to her chest. I walk cautiously to her and sit with her on the bed.

"Maya, I'm sorry."

"You should be apologizing to Papa and Ari, not me. You didn't ignore me or shout at me."

"But I upset you, honey. And I'm sorry for that." She still hasn't turned around to face me. I screwed up real bad. "I'm sorry. What should I do for you to forgive me?"

Finally, _finally_, she turns and studies me. "I want you to say sorry to Papa. Then I want you to play with Ari and me."

I sigh in relief. That should be easy. "Okay. Do you want to come join me?" I ask, extending my hand to her. Thankfully, she takes it and gets up from her spot against the wall. I help her down the bed and we walk out of the bedroom.

We bump into Peeta right away, he was just on the other side of the door, listening in to our conversation. Immediately, I hug him. "I'm sorry. Something just—I didn't… I don't—"

"Shhh," he cuts me off. "I understand. I hate feeling like I'm not enough, too."

I pull away, remembering the other half of the deal. His eyes are filled with so much relief that I can't help but kiss him. Just briefly, to let him know I'm really sorry for putting him through that—for abandoning him. "Where's Ari?" I ask, his name feeling foreign to my lips.

"He's in his crib downstairs," he answers. I look to Maya to my right, she's watching us intently. Her expression is unreadable, but I can see in her eyes that she's forgiven me, a bit. I offer her again my hand, which she takes, leading me to her brother.

My first thought was that he has my eyes. The very same shade. This is the first time I've gotten a good look at him. I don't understand why I'm so mesmerized, it's not like I don't see mine every day when I look in the mirror.

But it does, and I don't know how long I've held his gaze. I feel a small hand tug at my left hand lightly. Right. I'm supposed to play with them. From the very start, I was supposed to do that, to be the mother they deserve.

I take him into my arms carefully. Ari. My son.

Peeta was right, he's like me. Unlike Maya, who when I carried her in my arms started squealing right then and there, her brother simply blinks at me and gives me a gummy smile.

"Hi," I whisper, swaying him in my arms. He lifts one of his arms to acknowledge me. Even at three months old, I can tell he's going to be a better version of myself. He'll have everything I like best in Peeta, like Maya did, except his words.

My mind automatically compares them, my daughter and my son, but not in the way where I'm finding out which one is better. More like I'm just trying to see their individual qualities. Maya looks like me, but she has Peeta's openness and fondness of people. This little guy squirming in my arms looks like the carbon copy of my husband, but he'll have my reserved personality. I just hope he doesn't grow to hate people when he gets older, like I used to.

Given that he's still young and can't do much, add the lack of sounds you can get from him, our 'playtime' was relatively silent. The smiles I got from him are enough for me to know that I was wrong. We had not made a mistake.

What unfolds the day after I had accepted Ari into my life as my child shocks me.

Peeta's in the kitchen, stirring something for our breakfast, carrying our son in his arms. I step inside and wipe my boots on the mat, just as Maya came running from the living room to greet me. She hugs me, hard, and I kiss the side of her head. I drop my game bag and hunting jacket to the side and carry her. As soon as my eyes land on a smiling Peeta, my eyes widen.

This is what I had imagined.

Fifteen years ago in District Four.

This exact same scene had made me realize I did want kids. And now that I have them, now that this isn't a figment of my imagination anymore, I realize Gale was right. My father was right, too.

I shouldn't be afraid to risk anything for love.

Because it is worth it.

* * *

**A/N: I don't know what's gotten into me, I'm just a bit out of it, but I'll manage. Sorry if this chapter sucked. But here's the quote from the last chapter of _Real: _"A lot of things almost killed me, Peeta."**

**Thanks for reading, you lot, reviewing, following, favoriting, everything. Thank you!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: LAST FULL CHAPTER OF REAL! AACK!**

**I had so much fun writing this story, and I hope you had fun too. If I made you smile or laugh, then _awesome. _****If I made you tear up or sob, then I'm very sorry. I hope you don't regret spending so much time reading this! Thank you! You all are lovely! I got to 42 reviews! And 22 favorites! And 42 followers! Awesome. I thought this was going to flop, but it turned out alright! Again, thank you all for supporting this story! Okay, I'm talking too much and holding you up. I'll just continues blabbering at the end of this chapter. Here you go! Hope this satisfies you.**

* * *

Our children both seem to have gotten their share of our best qualities. When Ari turned one, Maya gave him a card that has a portrait of her brother on it. It's not as good as Peeta's, but at a young age, it's pretty decent. Another thing she got from Peeta aside from her… well, talkativeness.

For Maya's fifth birthday, the first birthday she got to celebrate in school, when we asked her what she wanted, we were so grateful she didn't say 'another brother.' Instead, she had asked her father to teach her how to bake cookies because we found out just days ago that Ari loves them, too, as much as we do. And she wants to make more for her brother. Turns out, she's great at baking, the cookies they prepared were perfect. Something from Peeta again.

But it doesn't bother me that she takes after her father, because Ari and I are a lot alike. If they're great at making things, we're great at breaking them. And yes, eating them, too. He learned to walk at one and a half, signaling the start of the more tiring playtime period. He and Maya walk around the house, Ari occasionally letting out an amused giggle. Unlike his sister, Ari's steps are light, quiet. Like mine.

At two, Ari can say words correctly, but could not speak in full sentences yet. Something that he probably got from me again.

Oh, I almost forgot. Ari has great aim. When we were all playing downstairs, he got his hands on a ball and threw it at Peeta, hitting his father right on the nose. We thought it was just luck, but after five more balls landing on the very same spot, I knew he got this from me.

No matter how different they are, they still are my children. I love them, something I was scared of, something I thought I didn't need in my life, but I do. Now that I have them, including Peeta, there's no denying my mindset when I was a younger needed to be corrected.

Peeta did that. Actually, more than that. He literally took my whole world into his hands, threw it in the air a couple of times, shook it, dropped it to the ground, broke it, then took all the shattered parts and glued them back together. This time, all of the pieces in their right places. Then, as a final touch, he became _it._

I'm not going to deny it, not like I used to, but Peeta, along with our children, is everything to me. They're the reason I get up every single day. They're the reason why I force myself to plow through whatever the future has for me—for us—even on my bad days. Even on those days when I'm paralyzed, crushed by my grief that I couldn't even stand the thought of having to open my eyes in the morning. But then they'll come barging into our room and into my consciousness, laughing, giggling, throwing their arms around me and peppering me with kisses, telling me that I am loved, reminding me that I still have some good in my life. That I haven't lost everything. That I still have a purpose in this world.

I find myself looking back more often, analyzing our odds. Before I sleep, whenever I'm watching them playing, sitting by the hearth… I tried to imagine how my life could have turned out if I didn't volunteer, if Prim weren't reaped. What if it was still Peeta who was got called and sent to the Games? Would he have won? Who will I be then? Just another mouth scrounging for food?

What if Peeta had died, my boy with the bread had died in front of my eyes? Would I have cried? Would I have shut down like I know I will, now that I let myself love him?

Would I have married Gale? Not for love, but for convenience. Would we have lasted then? Gale would have wanted me to fall for him, to love him. But I couldn't. We are too alike, two persons filled with rage and hatred. You cannot fight fire with fire. I had to learn that the hard way. No, I wouldn't have loved him. We would have stuck as hunting partners bound by law. Not by love.

Love wouldn't have entered my life if Peeta hadn't.

And without love, without Peeta, I wouldn't have Maya and Ari. And God knows I wouldn't trade them for anything.

* * *

They're playing, Maya holding one of Ari's hands as they run around, chasing butterflies and looking at flowers. Peeta and I are huddled together on a blanket, watching them. They don't know thousands of bodies are underneath them. They have no idea they play on a graveyard.

But today we're going to change that.

We've decided to take them to the meadow, because the _two_ of them started asking questions, not just one, about the people in the portraits hung all over the house. I should have seen it coming from the very first moment they started wandering the house in the morning.

The first person they asked about was Prim. Then Lily. Then they found the huge painting of memories Peeta and I are filling up, and the questions came more often and complicated. Like why don't they see them anymore, or why they hear me screaming about them on some nights.

I knew we'd have to explain things to them soon, especially since Maya already knows a bit from going to school. Maybe not everything, but they need to know _something. _And so something we'll have to give them.

"So," Peeta breathes out after a long time.

"So?"

"Are you happy?" he asks me, putting his chin on my shoulder. I can sense his nervousness underneath the steady façade he's putting up.

I think for a moment, not that I'm not happy. I am, but I want to tell him more, so I say, "More than I thought I could ever be," not just because I want to ease his mind, but because it's true. I never thought I'd have this life, along with everything that had happened in the past, and still be happy again. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For giving me this," I say, nodding to the direction of our children.

"Even if we have to answer all their questions? Go back to those terrifying years for the nth time and deal with the pain?"

I twist round slowly to face him and take his face into my hands. "I've accepted my past, Peeta. When I had agreed to be your wife, I did. Ever since then, I've been working on getting better, I get discouraged at times, but I'm trying." I look into his eyes, "For you. For them. For me, too."

He looks down, breaking from my gaze. I know he has on that shy smile on his lips again. He's still not giving himself the credit he deserves, that self-deprecating part of him hasn't changed, and I hate it whenever he does that. He's just, I don't know, the most perfect person I've ever met and he can't see that sometimes. All that he sees is the person he was after they hijacked him, the boy who lost his leg and mind. He forgets that he found himself again, that he got better…

I just love him so much it hurts. It hurts to know he doesn't love himself as much as I do. I want to make him see the person I see.

"Thank you, Peeta."

"What for this time?"

"For this," I whisper, leaning in to kiss him. His lips are soft and warm against mine, moving slowly. I have to remind myself that our children might see this before sanity slips away from my grasp. I pull away with one last peck, leaning my forehead on his. "You taught me how to love. You gave me hope. You were there for me right from the start. You didn't give up on me. Thank you for that. And I love you for who you are, okay?"

Before he can reply, I feel them tackle us, making Peeta lie on his back with me on top of him. With Maya and Ari, too. I feel his chest move as he chuckles under us. "I did not see that coming!"

We get off of him and pull him upright. My children are still giggling, obviously delighted from what they did. Peeta and I are smiling, too. When the laughter has dwindled down, the mood turns somber.

"Why are we here, Mama?" Ari asks.

I take a deep breath and squeeze Peeta's hand. He squeezes back, giving me the strength I need. "We're here because this is a special place for those people you asked us about. Aunt Prim, Lily, Uncle Finnick… all those people you see in the house are here."

"Where are they?" Ari asks.

"We don't have to see them, do we?" Peeta asks them. "Like your Grandpa Haymitch, we don't have to see him to know he's in his house, right?"

"I guess…"

"We'll explain more things to you when you get older, okay?" Peeta tells them. "We promise."

"Okay," they both answer.

"Now come here and give us a kiss."

* * *

Good days, then bad days. Then good again. Even after more than a decade, we still are haunted by our past. I wake screaming from nightmares of being chased by mutts, by the people I cared about, blaming me for their deaths, by emptiness.

Peeta ends up clutching the backs of our chairs, the kitchen counter, whenever he gets flashbacks. It seldom happens that he gets a really bad episode and transforms into that hijacked version of himself. They come to him very randomly now, even without a trigger. Maybe it's just them reminding us it isn't over.

We're at the living room again on one autumn night, Maya and Ari playing on the carpet, when I hear Peeta say, "I'll kill you."

I turn and see his eyes staring right at me, the once bright blue color turned to black from his dilated pupils. "Maya get—" I start to say, but she's already taking a wide-eyed Ari by the hand and leading him upstairs. She shoots me one last look of concern before disappearing down the hall with her brother.

He snatches my arm so quickly and I'm caught with my guard still down. I'm thrown to the floor, my head hitting the carpet, and it's Thirteen all over again. His fingers press down my windpipe, I can't breathe. He looks mad, deranged, _crazy, _even.

But this is not him. This is not my Peeta.

I try to speak, but I can't. I squeeze his wrists, trying to hurt him just a bit for my Peeta to come back. I need him back. Not this version of himself. My head starts to hurt from the lack of oxygen, and my lungs feel like they're on fire. His fingers tighten around my neck. I feel my consciousness slipping, my vision fading to nothing, so I let go of his wrists and cup his face. His grip loosens a bit, and when I try to speak, I hear my voice. "It's okay. I love you."

I'm just about to black out when a gulp of air enters my system. He's back. I gasp and catch my breath, my hands going to where Peeta's has once been. This will leave bruises for weeks. Like it did years back, when the victors were just rescued from the hands of Snow.

Peeta looks mortified at what he has done. I admit, I am, too. But we've been here before. And I don't care. He can hurt me and I'd probably still love him. I do. I love him more than life itself. Nothing can ever change that. Not what the Games and the war did to him, not what Snow did. Nothing. I love him and that's that.

He knows better than to recoil when I reach out to touch him, so I sit beside him and hold him as he cries. "I—I lost it. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he manages to say in between his sobs. I rock us back and forth, keeping his face buried in the crook of my neck. I pull him closer, scared he'll try to get away.

"It's okay, it's okay," I whisper, over and over, both to him and myself. I know it isn't. In other households, trying to strangle your wife is considered a crime, but not to ours. We're different. They didn't go through the things like we did. They didn't have to kill people to stay alive. They weren't tortured to the point of forgetting who they are, to the point of turning into something they're not and having to live with the consequences for the rest of their lives!

I realize I'm gripping Peeta's shoulders so hard from my anger, so I loosen up my hold on him. I don't know how long we stay like this, with him pressed so close against my side, but he has calmed down enough to have stopped trembling.

"It's okay."

"No, it isn't, Katniss. I almost killed you," he whispers. "Again."

"A lot of things almost killed me, Peeta. No need to get upset," I joke, despite the situation. His chest starts rumbling and I fear he's sobbing again, but I feel his lips brush my neck, rubbing against the bruises that have probably formed there. A silent apology to what he had done. He doesn't need to ask.

I've already forgiven him.

As soon as Peeta's asleep on the bed, I go to look at myself in the mirror. Black and blue and violet splotches cover my neck, and by just looking at them, I remember the feeling of his fingers there, intent on ending my life.

I let myself cry. I don't wipe the tears from my face. I let myself cry for everything one more time. For everything and everyone I've lost, for what we've been through, for what he's been through. I cry for me. For Peeta.

"Mama?"

I swiftly wipe my hands across my face to dry my tears before turning to my son, who is standing right behind me, his cheeks unmistakably wet from his own. He walks up to me and I take him into my arms.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Mama's okay."

He stares at me for a moment, studying my face. I see his eyes drift to the bruises on my neck. His tiny hands caress them lightly. "Did Papa hurt you?"

"I'm okay, Ari," I settle on telling him. Maya is peeking from the doorway, she looks so scared and confused and sad. And my eyes water again from seeing her having to deal with our demons.

I take her hand and pull her into our room. The three of us settle on the bed beside Peeta, careful not to wake him. Together we just watch him sleep, Ari on my lap, and Maya in front of us.

"You didn't answer my question," Ari whispers resignedly.

"Ari," Maya says softly. "Remember what I told you?"

He nods, "Okay. Someday."

And I don't know why but this makes me cry again. Hot tears streak my face as I try not to sob. My son sees me, and he uses his palms to wipe them off. He doesn't ask why, he doesn't tell me to stop crying, or that it's okay.

Eventually I calm down, and we all lie down beside Peeta. We hold him, my husband, and their father. As I close my eyes I see their faces again—so much pain at such young ages. I had not suffered like this when I was their age. I was at least given the chance to be a child even just for a short while.

But they weren't. All because they've had the misfortune of being our children.

* * *

Years pass and slip through our fingertips, but the nightmares hasn't stopped. Though they've dwindled down. Only coming when we're at our weakest, when we let our guard down, when we're simply too weak and tired to continue fighting them.

Peeta's episodes still come, like my nightmares, and not as frequent either. Only during stressful times, when we've fought or argued, when he got a nightmare recently. Just times like that, not random like before.

The questions, however, come on a daily basis, ever since Ari had started going to school, too, and was learning about the Games—about us. Some questions we really just can't answer yet. So we made up some sort of a game the four of us play, it's still asking and answering, but there's a limit—three questions every day for each person. Just so Peeta and I can catch our breaths.

We've shown them the book, but most of the people in there they're already familiar with because of Peeta's paintings. Every day they learn more about our past, sometimes the answers we give are too much to process that we have to skip a few days before continuing our game. They learn about their father's hijacking, the war, Snow, Coin…

And they've accepted it. Like Peeta and I have. Better than we expected.

I remember that day when Ari asked how many people have died because of us, and I had answered him, telling him I lost count. At first he looked scared, shocked, surprised. Peeta started to explain, but Ari's once tense features grew soft. Then he said, "It's okay, Dad. I understand. You had to do it. You had to fight for your lives, and thank you for that. Thank you for fighting for yourselves. For us."

"You have no idea how grateful and lucky we are for having you as our parents," Maya had whispered. "You may think otherwise because of the things that haunt you from your past, of us having to deal with them alongside you guys, but I want you to realize they helped Ari and I grow. We see things differently, both of our minds more open to… to everything. And we fight a different set of battles.

"My friends often complain they don't get enough sleep because their parents fought and screamed at each other until their throats burned. Almost all of them had told a variation of that story, but not me. Not us. We never ever witnessed that. We never ever did not get enough sleep because of you guys shouting at each other. The reason why we're forced to stay up is when you're having a bad night, and you needed to be reassured everything's okay. That Ari and I are still alive and that we're all alright. It wasn't anger that kept us up, it was love. You don't have to be sorry for anything. We understand. You helped us understand. Thank you."

"We love you, alright?" Ari said, his eyes gleaming from unshed tears.

"Come here, the two of you," Peeta said, opening up his arms. They do, and we hug them both. "You're the best things that ever happened to us, and we love you," He pinches their sides playfully. They giggle, "Okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

**A/N: Did anyone get the Quicksilver reference?! Please tell me you did! God. Oh, in case you were wondering, I named Ari after Aristotle, a character in Benjamin Alire Saenz's _Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe. _One of my most favorite books. Go give it a read if you want! You won't regret it! It's obvious that the character was named after the philosopher and scientist. Duh.**

**Now okay, on to the things that are related to this fanfic. I'm going to explain briefly some things, just those that I think you may or may not have wondered about.**

**You know, the problem I had while writing this was the reason behind Katniss taking so long to agree to having children. I mean, fifteen years. Dude. She already loves Peeta, but why is she still scared? Yeah. That.**

**My original plan was for Peeta to be diagnosed with an illness in his brain due to the hijacking, so Katniss would be scared to have children. Because, hello? The only man she ever loved is sick and is probably going to leave her behind and there's nothing she can do about it. It's the ultimate answer to my problem. But if I went through with that, I will need to kill Peeta and that's the last thing I want to do in my sorry excuse of a life. Nope. Not happening.**

**So I settled for miscarriage. Lily.**

**But hey, I can use the cancer thing in my next fic, the letters, yeah. Kill Peeta at the end. Oh. No? You don't want that? Hmm. It depends on my mood... but anyway. I made the toast babies sensitive and funny and smart because Katniss and Peeta deserve that. They deserve the best kids possible.**

**Um, what else? I kept Gale and her mom in her life because I believe Peeta changed her. He helped her become a more forgiving version of herself, and she's lost almost everyone in her life and Katniss is my baby and I do not want to make her suffer anymore. I think I've told you that already, but I'm putting it here again.**

**Prim. In _Always, _I mentioned that Katniss has accepted Prim's fate, no matter how grim it is. I also saw her death as necessary. Prim was holding Katniss back from living. Because of Prim, Katniss couldn't let herself love Peeta in the first book because she has to win and go home. In _Catching Fire, _she kind of let go a bit. Gradually, she convinced herself that she needs to save Peeta, even if it means dying. In _Mockingjay, _Prim helped her deal with everything. But if Prim weren't killed, they would have gone back to Twelve, but since their mother left for District Four, she would have had to take care of Prim again. So I'm going to skip everything else and just tell you that Peeta and Katniss would have found it difficult to grow back together if Prim was there. Watching them and stuff. Just think of her as a length of rope that's tethering Katniss from everything. With her gone, our heroine was finally free. Free to live, not just survive.**

**Don't get me wrong. I love Prim. But sacrifices just have to be made.**

**Anyway. I didn't make Haymitch all drunk and snarly all the time because I wanted him to heal, too. After dealing with more than twenty five years of the Hunger Games, I believe he's gotten enough pain to last him a lifetime. (PS: In my world, Hayffie is endgame. I just didn't know how to insert them here. Maybe in Peeta's letters)**

**I think that's it. Everything I wanted to explain and stuff. Again, a huge thank you to all of you! I'll upload the epilogue soon, don't worry. I hope it would bring you that nice satisfied feeling that I got when I wrote it.**

**Here's a quote from it: "Throw her some bread... in the rain."**

**_Dad jokes. You go Peeta._**

**I love you! Thanks for reading again. Favorite? Review? *smiles***


	16. Epilogue

**A/N: I'm not really sure if this counts as an epilogue or just a cut scene but here it is!  
**

* * *

We're lounging around in our room, all four of us having only just woken up. We do this every once in a while, something that had come from Maya's original habit of sneaking in when she was little. Ari is on his back to my left, facing the ceiling, his fingers tying an imaginary knot. Maya's on her stomach, drawing circles on our blanket. Peeta and I are snuggled together, our arms wrapped around each other, when it suddenly hits me we've told them everything there is to tell. They know everything, almost like they were alive to witness all those things.

This realization gives me relief that is on a whole new level, like the nail that has been driven into my chest ever since my dad died has been plucked. Finally. I prop myself up onto my elbows and ask Peeta, "This is our family, we're happy, we're filled with love. Real or not real?"

He smiles, "Real."

My lips curve into a smile, and I lean down to kiss him. Another wordless thank you to him for entering my life. My left hand comes up and settles on his chin, something to cover us, just in case my children look up suddenly. We break the kiss, still smiling. "Mom," I hear Maya say. I turn to look at her. "I'm jealous," she whispers.

"Jealous? Of whom?"

"You guys."

_What? _"You're jealous of us?"

"Yeah," she exhales. "Anybody who's watching can see that you and dad love each other so much. Especially me, I've been watching you for the whole fifteen years of my life and not once did I doubt your love. And I just—I just…I want a love like that. And almost all the boys at school are asses—"

"Maya," Peeta scolds.

"I'm sorry, but they're such _jerks_—"

Ari snorts, "That wasn't any better."

"I can't think of a better word! I'm sorry!" she yells. We all laugh at that. "I just want someone like dad," she whispers. "Someone who would always stay by my side, no matter how hard things get."

"Don't worry, honey. You'll find him. You're still young. For the meantime, just enjoy your life," I tell her. She smiles. "I wasn't even looking for this one," I fake-whisper to her. "He just happened."

"Actually, mom," Ari starts. "I like this girl in class, but I don't think she even knows I exist."

His words take me decades back, when I was in a glowing red dress made by Cinna's hands, on that very last night I was certain I'd still be alive tomorrow, watching a stranger admit to all Panem he loves me. "I…I think it's better if you ask your dad about that," I say. "He's more experienced in that field. You know, loving someone from afar."

"Oh, give me a break, Katniss," Peeta says, covering his face with his right arm, feigning exasperation. We laugh again.

"Seriously, dad, I really want to know her."

"Tell me about this girl first," Peeta says, his fingers twirling the ends of my hair. "What is she like?"

"She's amazing, dad. She's nice, and pretty, and funny, and friendly, and everything I'm not," my son says. We're quiet for a moment. Then he adds, "Much like you and mom." This brings out a chuckle from the two of us. "What can I do?"

"Get reaped?" Peeta jokes.

"Dad," Ari whispers. "There's no Games anymore. Anything else?"

"Um, throw her some bread?"

Ari scoffs, getting the reference, then asks, "A bit more romantic?"

"Throw her some bread… in the rain."

I hear Ari groan, burying his face into the blanket. "Seriously, dad."

"Hey! It worked for me!"

"Mom, why did you marry him again?" he asks jokingly, looking back up at us.

I laugh. "He has his moments," I tell him simply, because if I were to list down all the reasons why I married Peeta, it would take another fifteen years to get to the half of it.

"Um, Dad?" I hear Maya say.

Peeta hums in acknowledgement, "What is it?"

"My… my friends think you're hot."

I sit up and make a move to get out of bed, but Peeta catches my wrist. "Where are you going?" he asks.

"I'll go get my bow."

"Mom!" Maya and Ari yell. I think Peeta said my name, too.

"I'm kidding! God!" Then we're laughing, Peeta, me, Maya, Ari—my family—we're all laughing, despite all that has happened. We're in our room, talking about nothing and everything, something I thought I would never live to see.

But now we're here. And all of it is _real.  
_

* * *

**A/N: Aaaah! It's finished! My God! How do you find this epilogue thingy? I literally woke up with this on my mind a few weeks back.**

**Oh, and I'm kind of having second thoughts about the letters thingy because it's taking me so long to write. I have a handfuls of letters already written but it seems pointless to me now. So I don't know. But anyway. ****Leave a review? Favorite? I don't care what you do, but thank you for giving this a chance! I love you!**


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